Embers
by Neocolai
Summary: What is an archer without his right hand? No Slash.
1. Darkness

**The muse and I do not own The Hobbit or anything related to it whatsoever.**

** The song lyrics included at the beginning of each chapter are from Beethoven's Midnight by the Transiberian Orchestra.**

* * *

_AND IN THE DARK HE SITS ALONE,_

_TO WATCH HIS FINAL HOURS BLEEDING..._

* * *

Fire had held a fascination for Kili for as long as he could remember. Fire was warmth and comfort; steaming mugs of cider and Mummy winding too many vividly colored blankets around him when blizzards coated the mountains with snow. Fire represented craftmanship; graceful swords, iron tools and delicate chains of gold. Fire was light and dance, stories woven among the jetting flames as he picked out the forms of heroes from long ago.

Recently fire had proved a form of salvation; flaring pine cones catapulted at the enemy and the screams of wargs as they tucked their tails between their legs and fled. Fire had become a wreath of glory surrounding his uncle, Thorin's fearless charge bolstering Kili's own spirit and giving him the courage to free himself from the entanglements of the fallen tree and join in the attack.

Fire turned into burning embers and wreaths of smoke, thwarting his vision and shadowing the form of the enemy until it was too late.

The weighted blow of a mace slammed between Kili's shoulders, hurling him several feet through the air. Though his bow and quiver took the brunt of the strike, splintering on impact, there was yet enough force to drive the breath from his lungs. The moment Kili hit the ground he crumpled in a heap, gaping listlessly as he struggled to draw in air. Tiny pinpricks of heat from scattered embers seared his face but the overwhelming need to _breath_ occupied all his thoughts. Somewhere in the distance Fili was screaming his name, but Kili could not force a sound from his throat in reply.

Though it was mere seconds before his lungs recovered enough to prove capable of sustaining him again, hours seemed to pass before Kili could take a deep gasp of choking, soot filled air. He lifted his head and saw Fili running towards him, and for a moment all was well. He had been careless, perhaps with near fatal results, but he had survived to laugh in death's face once more. Fili would likely thwack him over the head for his stupidity after the battle, but until that moment they would fight together, back to back, each defending the other as was meant to be.

Fate had never decided with such flippancy as upon that night.

Fili's expression twisted in horror, echoing a wordless shout of warning at the peril looming behind his brother. Before Kili could grasp the significance a heavy boot slammed into the center of his shoulders, driving him into the earth. He let out a muffled yelp as his face was ground into the dust, smoldering pine needles and charred fir cones filling his vision.

Azog's laughter rang in his ears, dark and cruel. An icy chill flooded Kili as he realized how foolhardy he had been to let his guard down too soon. Cold steel caressed the back of his neck and with a sinking horror Kili remembered the flashing of light against metal as an orc's scimitar swung down to end Thorin's life. He knew with terrible, morbid certainty what was about take place, and he was helpless to prevent it.

In that moment a deep hatred Kili never knew existed ignited within his soul. It was as though the sparks drifting in the breeze had touched the muted embers of fury in his heart and set them alight, imploding in a cataclysm of wrath. His father had been murdered at the hands of this monster, and for all he knew his uncle also lay at death's door. If Kili was to join them then so be it, but he would not go down without a fight.

Lurching for his sword Kili grasped at empty air, his heart sinking as he realized it had flown from his grasp at one point during the tumolt. The razor edge of the Pale Orc's blade left his neck and Kili knew only seconds of his life remained. Determined not to end with a coward's defeat he grappled for a weapon - a knife, a broken branch, _anything_ - and nearly whooped in delight when his hand settled on a broken arrow that had filtered from his smashed quiver. The iron tip glowed red hot from its resting place among a bed of coals, but Kili paid no heed to his singed fingers as he swung his arm back and drove the blazing point deep into the joint between Azog's foot and ankle.

The bellow of outrage which followed sent wargs and their riders skittering back in apprehension. Kili rolled out of the way as Azog spasmed above him, spewing out blasphemy in the orc tongue as his seething gaze rested on the mosquito that had caused him such discomfort. Kili's eyes widened and he scrambled backwards, fear overriding all rational thought as the Pale Orc advanced.

In the corner of his eye he could make out Fili thrashing against the ivory trap of a warg's jaw clamped around his leg, sword hacking in a frenzy to destroy the creature preventing him from running to his brother's aid. Their eyes met briefly and Kili recognized the terror in his brother's gaze, resolution overriding pain as he plunged his sword into the warg's eye and wrenched free of of its maw. Kili felt a burst of panic as he saw the blood coursing down his brother's leg, his own vulnerability forgotten in light of the gruesome wound.

_Fili, no!_ He rolled to his knees even as Fili surged in his direction, the Pale Orc the furthest thing from his mind. Without warning Azog's boot caught him in the ribs, throwing him back to the ground inches from the glowing coals of a felled tree limb. For an instant his right hand rested on the burning embers and with a stifled gasp Kili flinched back. A cold, sadistic leer spread across Azog's face, and Kili's eyes widened as he guessed the orc's intentions. With a muted cry of horror he drew his hand away, only to have it stamped down upon the golden shafts of fire.

He was not certain whether Fili or himself was the first to scream.

For one brief instant Kili felt nothing, captivated by the amber stones glimmering against his skin. An incomprehensible sensation drowned him in a haze of crimson, his mind screaming at him to let go, to wrench away, to free himself of the bindings holding him down. A blinding white sheet of what he finally recognized as agony engulfed his entire hand, and he convulsed wildly against the restraint grinding his wrist into the earth, yanking his arm in an animalistic frenzy to evade the burning torment.

He could hear Fili screaming in the distance, heart wrending cries of anguish that tore into Kili's soul. _Fili, no... Please, not Fili, too...!_ His own pain Kili could withstand so long he knew as Fili was alive and well. The mental image of his brother being torn to pieces by wargs or worse, enduring the same torment as he, cast Kili deeper into a pit of despair that no ray of tomorrow could break through.

Rivers of searing anguish coursed from his fingertips to his shoulder, waves of blackness crashing down in sync with his pounding heart. Kili had long abandoned all signs of coherency, his mind consumed by light and crackling flames and the nauseating odor of his own flesh burning. Though the searing agony had dulled in parts of his hand resting directly on the coals, the blurred tendrils of flame dancing along the his blistered skin seemed to mock him, taunting him with past illusions of safety and fortitude.

Fire was no longer a symbol of warmth and comfort and song. Fire was a ruthless adversary, silent and devastating, annihilating everything in its path. Fire was torture and screams and a cloying, sweet scent that drugged the air and sent Kili further into the recesses of unconsciousness. Fire held no allies, spared no mercy and favored no one. Fire was Azog's cruel laughter, the hoarse cries of his brother and ragged, torn whimpers Kili could not recognize as his own.

Suddenly the weight holding him immobile was lifted, hands roughly grasping his shoulders and pulling him away from the agonizing heat. Blackness overwhelmed his vision as his wounded hand was bundled into a piece of cloth, and someone ... _Fili? _... was shouting in his ear, pleading with him to open his eyes, promising him that the Gandalf would make everything right again, begging him to _please, just open his eyes for a moment!_

Such small requests were beyond Kili's ability to grant. As the sensation of weightlessness carried him far from the throes of anguish and torment, he let go of the sound of his brother's voice and tumbled gratefully into the arms of darkness

* * *

**The muse is evil and conniving and will only work for food. Feed the ravenous little thing so that it will remove its teeth from my computer screen and permit me to write the next chapter. **

**(Warning: Do not give the muse coffee. I am under the impression that this little guy is twice as rabid as the last one...)**


	2. Over

_WHILE UNCONCERNED UPON THE WALL,_

_THE CLOCK IT TICKS AWAY THE TIME..._

* * *

The air was sooty and acrid, chunks of black ash coating Fili's throat and making it difficult to breath. Roaring walls of flame cast shadows mightier than the firs, the yelping of wargs intensified by the garish light. Fili ignored the promise of a slow, gruesome fate at the hands of the orcs. His only thougts were to ensure Thorin was alive and keep those dastardly monsters from mutilating his body further.

His second foremost goal, of course, involved keeping his irrational twerp of a little brother out of harm's way.

Kili, no doubt sharing Fili's thoughts that to leave their uncle's rescue to a _hobbit _was to act lower than the most despicable of goblins, had leapt into the fray seconds after Bilbo had rushed to protect Thorin. While Fili would have expected no less of his sibling, he did wish Kili could have waited a second longer for him to catch up.

Sometimes Fili despaired of his brother's blatant ignorance of the fact that he was not immortal. Kili was as impetuous and unpredictable as the river and equally mindless of his environment. His wild spirit knew no bounds, and every tree and cave was territory that was meant to be explored. Fili had his doubts that Kili would survive a week without someone around to save his hide, and he feared that one day little brother would land himself in more trouble than either dwarf could handle.

With this thought in mind, Fili allowed himself a small sense of relief as he caught up to his brother. Kili would argue that he was more than capable of looking out for himself, but Fili held the suspicion that Kili could manage to find a way to cripple his leg in a rabbit hole if he saw fit. No, little brother was by no means fighting alone in this battle.

As Fili ducked under the scimitar of the warg's rider, however, he cursed the decision he was forced to make. Both his uncle and his brother were in danger at this moment, and he knew that should the opening arise he must choose who to defend. Kili was yet unharmed and breathing, while Thorin was unconscious (he refused to even consider the worst possible scenario) and vulnerable to any attack. The answer itself was clear to Fili, yet a dark foreboding clenched his soul and he was loathe to leave his brother's side.

As though Fate had made the decision for him the murky clouds of smoke parted and Fili realized the path to his uncle was clear. Assured that for the moment Kili was not in peril of tripping over his own boots, Fili drove his sword into the flank of the last warg blocking his path and broke free of the turmoil to assist uncle.

It was a mistake he would later regret.

A large object whistled through the air above him and Fili instinctively ducked. The crushing blow of a mace passed mere inches from his scalp and Fili nearly laughed for insane relief at how close he had come to walking the halls of Aulë's Mansion. He was absently grateful Kili had not caught sight of the near miss, as he would have teased Fili mercilessly for stealing his place in the top score of "Creative Ways to Not-Die in Battle."

Fili's mirth died an instant later, when a distinct _crunch _and his brother's cry dragged time to a crawl. Shadows of darting wargs morphed into wraiths of creeping darkness, swooping in for the kill before sluggishly twisting away from slow twirling battle axes. The ashes around Fili's boots may well have turned to thick, squelching mud, impairing his mobility as he turned in horror to face the worst.

Fili would recall later that he comprehended no sounds of conflict as his brother was propelled through the air, nor the distinct _thud_ he expected when Kili struck the earth and rolled close to a burning pine. For a moment his gaze met that of the Pale Orc's, and as furiousice blue clashed with leering, pale yellow a raw, tangible loathing set fire to Fili's blood.

There was no alternative course in his mind. Azog would die for so much as laying a finger on his younger brother. He would not escape with his life this night, and if slicing him apart piece by piece was the only way to appease this thirst for vengeance, then Fili would be certain the orc was aware of each agonizing moment.

With a visible effort Kili lifted his head and shook it in a daze, oblivious to his surroundings. His eyes latched onto Fili's and a gut wrenching pang struck the elder dwarf at the infallible trust in his brother's eyes. Like the naiive child he resembled so often, Kili anticipated that his older brother would heroically charge in and save the day. Regret gnawed a pit of despair in his stomach as Fili realized he might have done just that had he relied on his gut instinct telling him to stand by his brother.

"Behind y - !" he began. His warning broke off in a shout of outrage as Azog slammed one foot between Kili's shoulder blades, grinding his face into the dust as though the dwarf was nothing more than an insect to be crushed under his heel.

Blind rage overwhelmed Fili's vison and his face twisted in a wordless snarl, his sword raised high above his head as he charged towards the vile serpent that dared harm his brother. Azog merely laughed, deliberately taunting the dwarf as he grasped the sword of a fallen orc and touched it to Kili's neck.

_No, no, no, not like this! Please, Aulë, not like this!_

Balin's sorrowful recount of Thror's murder replayed as a viscious death knell in Fili's mind, blocking all else from comprehension save the glint of crimson flashing on steel and the desperate plea in Kili's eyes. For his brother to die in such an deplorable manner would be the final blow to crumble all hope, for there would be no illusion that Kili was catching up on a few minutes sleep and stubbornly refusing to open his eyes. There would be only the forlorn understanding that this was the end, that Kili's empty gaze would no longer dance with laughter, that his mutilated body could never be restored by wizard magic or Elven powers. No one deserved such an abhorent fate, never mind his baby brother.

Even as Fili ran towards the vile orc a large object struck his legs, sweeping his feet out from under him. He cursed his clumsiness as the world tilted; only Kili had the right to slip on a pile of leaf mulch in the heat of battle. Distantly Fili heard the raving bellow of the Pale Orc, and with a thrill of mingled pride and relief he guessed that little brother had done something to buy himself time.

Pain struck him at that moment like a flash of lightning, rippling up his leg where the warg responsible for his fall had sunk its teeth in nigh to the bone. The spears of agony should have been a warning that he must remain still; lay low and evade the battle; protect his injured limb while he was yet alive. In reverse they only clarifyied Fili's thoughts, jerking him back to reality with more potency than if he he had been doused in an icy river.

Yelling incoherently Fili slashed at the warg holding his leg, the forest spiralling in murky clouds when the creature shook its head viciously in response. Berefit of its rider, the warg knew only how to resort to its primal instincts; to maim and shred until the prey was incoherent and fit to be properly devoured. It was not accustomed to midnight snacks fighting back, however, and this particular morsel had a nasty bite of its own.

The warg was given no opportunity to rethink its choice of supper, as with an angered shout Fili plunged his sword into its eye. There was a brief flash of pain and blackness before its life winked out with scarcely a whimper.

Fili wrenched his leg free of the monster's jaws, blood streaming from the ravaged, torn flesh. He knew he should stop the bleeding before he lost consciousness but there was no time. Fili's gaze rivetted to his brother, and for an instant his heart ceased to beat and his blood froze in his veins.

As though in slow motion he watched as Azog's boot smashed down upon Kili's outstretched hand, crushing it into the fiery bed of glowing embers. A ragged, horrified roar of denial was torn from Fili's own throat even as his brother's scream reverberated through the forest.

Such a pitiful, heart-wrending wail could not have belonged to any of Fili's kin. The sound tore into him like a gaping wound as he watched his brother thrash helplessly, shrieking like a wounded animal as he wrenched his arm in blind confusion. The scent of oozing, scorched flesh turned Fili's stomach and a flood of nausea threatened to overpower him.

Flashes of Kili's life flitted by in an instant, the images contrasting so terribly with the present.

_"Kili, no. Stay away from the fire. Fire is bad, remember? It will hurt you if you get too close."_

_The young dwarfling ignored his bossy older sibling, edging too close to the burning logs for Fili's comfort. "Is'not bad, Fili," he said tartly, as though all brothers were this dimwitted when it came to the wonders of flickering warmth and light. "Mummy wouldn't keep it inside if it would hurt us."_

_Fili fumbled for an answer. "That's cause Mummy keeps it in a very safe place," he stammered. "Otherwise it would escape and ... um... eat the house." Because that was a very matures statement to describe the dangers of fire to his little brother. Fili winced at his analogy._

_Kili shook his head, adamant about his theory. "Fire's pretty, Fili, an' Mummy likes pretty things. Just like the flowers you an' me picked fur her." He held his little hands closer to the flames, enraptured by the flares of blue and gold._

_Fili sighed heavily and grabbed Kili's hood, dragging the protesting child away from the hearth. "You'll catch your hair on fire, Kili! Don't you realize how much that would hurt? To burn alive, just like those logs down there?"_

_Kili swatted his hand away, agitated at being pulled back like a disobedient child. "I know what dragons are, Fili!"_

_Fili stopped short in bewilderment. "Dragons...? Kili, I was talking about - "_

_The answer dawned on him as Kili pointed out ferociously, "Dragon fire __**hurts**__ - Unca Thorin told me that. This in't dragon fire, Fili!" He edged closer to the fire, stolidly ignoring Fili and placing his hands closer to the warmth again. _

_Fili's brow furrowed and he scratched his head, trying to decipher how his brother came up with such logic. "It can still hurt you, Kili, even if it isn't from a dragon."_

_Kili shrugged, unperturbed. "I know, Fili. I touched it once an' Mummy had ta bandage it for a week. It just doesn't hurt as bad as Unca Thorin said."_

_For Durin's sake, how could Fili argue against such childish logic? It seemed his only reasonable defense would be to drag his little brother away from the flames and keep a close eye on him until Kili found some other means to amuse himself. At so a young an age his brother had already established a stubborn streak that defied all reasoning and supplication. Fili thought he would be lucky to see Kili survive the rest of the winter, let alone his first tour of the forges._

_Oh, no. Kili was definitely not going within ten feet of Uncle Thorin's forge until he was at least forty years old. So help him, if Fili had to sit on his brother's head until the urge to reach those walls of flame dissapated he would do so. Uncle Thorin would just have to teach his line of craftmanship to one of his many cousins, because Fili was not letting his brother linger close by for even a minute. __**Someone **__had to make sure Kili lived to see his next birthday._

_Sighing in defeat Fili slumped beside to his brother and put an arm around his shoulders, understanding that nothing more he could say would alter Kili's opinion. At least this way he could prevent his brother from leaping into the flames himself. After a moment Kili sidled closer, accepting Fili's silence as a form of truce while he excitedly pointed out horses and stags prancing in the shafts of glimmering amber._

To see Kili's innocent childhood revelry utilized as a form of torture was more than Fili could bear. Fire was his brother's element; Kili's eyes should be lit with the embers of rebellion and exhilaration, his sword flashing and weaving among the jets of flame like the miniature warriors he searched out whenever the elders reccounted the past. Azog's torture was of the most inexorable and unforgivable nature, and Fili would not allow it to remain unavenged.

His sword whistled in a gleaming arc as he feinted towards Azog's knee, bringing it up in a killing strike towards the juglar vein. Anticipating his whim Azog sneered and casually swung his mace to block the dwarf's attack, regarding him with disinterest as though he were batting away a pesky fly. According to the orc this battle's source of entertainment lay whimpering like a pitiful mongrel under his feet. His friend's desperate attempts to rescue him only added to the general amusement.

Azog regarded the dwarf with a pretense of sympathy, intrigued at how pathetically loyal the creatues were. He had not seen such a display of wrath since beheading the last so called "King Under the Mountain." How strange that this tiny, venomless serpent would go to such laborous extents to protect one of his own. The warg had dealt considerable damage to his leg and still he staggered on, and for what purpose? For the blubbering, toothless pup that had proved so ineffectual in battle? There must be a deeper meaning behind this show of useless guardianship.

Revelation dawned and Azog sneered, pale yellow eyes lighting with fascination as the obstinate dwarf feinted another attack, his strikes ever glancing back to dismember the leg which trapped his ... _**kin**_.

Rarely would a dwarf react with such brazen foolishness, even to defend their own ruler. Threaten a close relative, however, and one may well have stepped into nest of hornets. The two dwarves were close enough in age that, although their constrasting features defied the theory, Azog was willing to wager they were brothers. Doubtless the opponent's tenacious spirit had been roused by the mewling cries of a younger sibling. How touching.

A much as he would have liked to continue their little game of sword play until the younger dwarf's hand blackened and fell off, Azog was pre-occupied with a more important matter; namely his sworn determination to obliterate the son of Thror. It was time to put an end to this trifling nonsense. With his branch-like replacement hand he viciously backhanded the elder dwarf, his mace dropping down for the finishing blow.

It never met its target.

Fili's eyes glittered with satisfaction as he ducked under the Pale Orc's forearm, the blood trickling down his cheek unheeded as he drove his sword into Azog's foot. Bone crunched under the sharp blade and with a howl of agony the orc jerked away, astounded that the 'venomless serpent' had struck so deeply.

Fili wasted no time seizing Kili and dragging him away from the bed of embers, his stomach threatening to overturn as he caught a brief glimpse of his brother's twisted, mangled hand. Gagging at the sight he tore off a corner of his tunic and wrapped it hastily around the wound, afraid to look further at the damage and admit that it was more than a superflous burn. Kili had ceased to respond save for a faint, high pitched keen, his silence unnerving Fili more than his earlier cries.

"Please, Kili open your eyes for me. You - you will be fine; Gandalf will heal you in no time. He -he's a wizard, after all, he probably has an incantation specifically set aside for this sort of thing..."

Fili was aware that tears were choking his words, streaks of salt water trickling down his face as he shook Kili gently in his arms and pleaded, "Please, brother, just open your eyes for me for one moment, just one moment, Kili!"

Kili's head lolled back in his arms and for a moment Fili was terrified his brother was gone. He pressed a hand to Kili's throat, gasping in relief when he felt the frantic, thready pulse of his brother's heartbeat. There was no time to relish in that small victory, however, as Azog swiftly recovered from Fili's previous assault.

The Pale Orc's expression was that of pure, unadulterated rage as he stormed forward to erradicate the two paltry fleas that had spoiled his hour of triumph. Fili staggered to his feet, his bloodied sword wavering despite the challenge in his eyes. His legs quivered beneath him, adrenaline and fear no longer enough to prevent him from collapsing to his knees. Azog regarded him with cool contempt, his club raised to bash in the dwarf's insubordinate skull.

As though Fate had changed her mind at the last minute and chosen to intervene, the gust of a fierce windstorm drove the Pale Orc off balance, his crippled foot giving way beneath him as his mace flew from his hands. Fili, too, was driven backwards by the force of the gale, but not one to request second favors of chance he rose with an effort and gathered Kili into his arms, scrambling backwards as fast as his good leg could propel him.

With an ear piercing shriek and the winds of a hurricane under its wings, the ethereal form of a great eagle swooped upon them. Fili's sword may well have been a writing quill in comparison to the clawed talons that enveloped him and his brother. For an instant he struggled against the eagle's hold, crying out as Kili was torn from his grasp. The next instant he was falling, his stomach flipping uncomfortably for the third time before he sank with a soft _whump_ into what felt oddly like a giant feathered pillow. Kili tumbled to a rest beside him, his palour pasty white and yet already tinged with the flush of a fever.

Fili should have been in awe of riding on the back of a great sky hunter, a fantasy of Kili's since he had overcome his childhood fear of heights. As he cradled his brother in his arms, however, he could only taste the bitterness of his failure.

Since the moment D_i_s had laid her newborn son in his arms Fili had sworn to look out for Kili, and now... Now he realized his promise was composed of bleak, empty words. Words could not rectify past mistakes nor remove the stench of blackened, charred skin from the air. Words could not erase the memory of nightmarish screams or malevolent, derisive laughter. Words were useless; pathetic apologies strung together on a thread of condemnation.

Fili would gladly have traded anything in the world if only to take Kili's place and endure the pain for his brother. It had not proved his choice to make, however, and Fili cursed the fates for toying so mercilessly with his brother. If this was punishment for whatever past crimes his forefathers had dealt, then why could it not fall upon his shoulders instead? As the eldest he should be held responsible; it was a burden Kili was never meant to bear.

Heated tears spilled from Fili's eyes as he finally grasped the weight of his brother's injuries. He could not bring himself to look at the grisly wound again; one glimpse of Kili's raw, mutilated hand had all but confirmed the worst. Fili dreaded passing the news on to his lively, thrill seeking younger brother, who prided himself with his bow and was never seen without the graceful weapon.

For once Kili learned that there was no hope of salvaging his right hand, his life as Fili knew it may well be over.

* * *

**Everything in this chapter, good or ill, will be blamed on the muse for keeping me up past 1:30 a.m. so that it could publish its chapter. Rant at that bloodthirsty little thing if you so desire. **

**As for me, I am going to pretend there is no such thing as alarm clocks for the next few hours. In the meantime my ravenous muses will need to be fed, so if my fabulous reviewers would be so kind as to leave them a few tidbits to chew on it will be greatly appreciated. :)**


	3. Shattered

_NO NEED FOR WORDS FOR IN THE DARK,_

_ALL WORDS HAVE LONG SINCE LOST THEIR MEANING..._

* * *

_Phantoms of mist and darkness ebbed and faded in a still lake that saw no end. The shadowed forest was eerily silent, black water pooling around Thorin's legs as hollow branches tapped mournfully without the wind to guide their movement. In the grey overcast he could make out the peak of the Lonely Mountain, its stark ridges visible to the naked eye in spite of the leagues he had yet to travel. _

_Erabor was calling his name, the cries of his heritage drawing him to the land he once called home. Even as Thorin sloshed through the mire, however, the distance to the mountain grew as dark waters sucked him under. Ever more they wrapped him in their embrace, lapping over his head as he reached out blindly for leverage to pull himself free of the swamp. _

_When his fingertips sank beneath the lapping waves Thorin knew there was no point in fighting any longer, yet he continued to struggle for that pale glint of light that beckoned for him to go on. He kicked angrily at his tranquil prison, his movements sluggish and ineffectual against the river's chains. _

_Just as he thought all hope was lost and he would be forever lost in a tomb of blackness, a beacon of crystal light shattered the murky darkness, stripping away the tendrils of icy death and casting him from the stagnant waters onto a shore that until this moment had remained hidden from his sight..._

With an effort Thorin forced his eyes open, flinching against the gentle rays of the early morning sun. It took him a moment to gather his bearings before he relived the last moments before darkness had enveloped him.

He recalled his burning anger towards Azog, the orc's triumphant gloating and the bitter taste of defeat at the hands of his father's murderer. He remembered Bilbo's foolhardy attempt to save his life, and was mollified at the hobbit's courage. He had doubted Bilbo since the moment he saw the bumbling coward who demanded he could not leave home without a handkerchief, and it was the hobbit of all the company who was the first to overcome his fear and challenge none other than the Pale Orc himself. Though it was a blow to Thorin's pride to admit he had been wrong about his assumptions, Bilbo had earned his respect.

Balin was at his side the moment Thorin shifted, assisting him to a seated position. "Easy, now, you've been unconscious for some time. Try not to move abruptly; I don't imagine Gandalf would be too happy about having to bring you back again should you fall and smash your head on the rocks below."

Thorin snorted lightly at the thought, honing in on the distinct lack of activity around him and musing with dull humor that he was likely too boring for the other dwarves to worry over his unconscious state. A grim sense of apprehension banished the attempt at humor and he looked to Balin for an explanation.

Balin met his gaze only briefly, hinting with a glance the small huddle to his left. Thorin instantly surmised the reason and his lungs failed him as he flitted through the list of names and faces of their company, each of whom were valued to him not for their skills but the the loyalty of their hearts and the individual characteristics that he had come to recognize over the arduous journey.

An unspoken prayer, one which he dared not breath aloud yet remained a constant litany in his thoughts, was that the fallen was not one of his nephews. Thorin would never admit to himself that he might be selfish enough to show favoritism in the death of those among the company, but those who knew him well enough suspected the truth. None which followed him would die without honor, without an oath of vengeance and the fire kindled anew in the soul of their future king, but only two lives held the potential to fan the embers of their leader's fervency into a curtain of flame ... or snuff it out altogether.

Mentally Thorin counted off names, sensing that his world was crumbling like sand through his fingers and yet pleading with the higher powers that all was not as it seemed. Only three dwarves were absent from his immediate line of sight, and it was with grim certainty that Thorin _knew_ Dwalin and Gloin were not the reason behind the anxious huddle of dwarves cloistered around Gandalf.

Surely Kili had been distracted by a rabbit and decided to put his archery skills to good use while the company was delayed. Perchance he had relished the freedom of the eagle's wings a little _too_ well and unintentionally adopted himself into their flock. Aulë help him, Thorin would find it acceptable if his youngest nephew was hanging by one foot from a tree limb so long as he was not the one who lay prone in Fili's arms.

Angrily Thorin shrugged Balin's hand from his shoulder, discerning the gesture as one of both sympathy and restraint. Pushing aside those in his path Thorin stumbled towards the bowed figure of his eldest nephew, recognizing the stooped, quivering shoulders and suffocating aura of mourning even before he saw Kili's limp form curled up in Fili's grasp.

For a moment he thought he would never breath again. Kili lay agonizingly still, Fili's despair so palpable that Thorin was convinced he would never again see his youngest nephew bound into the room with that impish grin as he plotted out his next feat of disaster. Grief swept over him in a catastrophic wave, and just when he thought his reserve would crumble and he would never be whole again a ragged breath lisped past Kili's lips.

Relief so tangible it brought Thorin to his knees caused a choked sob to break free of his restraint. Fili, appearing to notice him for the first time, opened his mouth to speak only to swallow convulsively as words failed him. Thorin took no notice of him, grasping Kili's hand firmly in his own as though he could tether the boy to Middle Earth and prevent his spirit from lifting free to explore the worlds beyond.

Gandalf met his eyes with a sharp glance that offered no comfort, his expression grim as he finished winding a strip of clean cloth around Kili's right hand.

"I have not the healing powers of the Elves," he murmured. "Rhadaghast would have served better for this manner of injury."

"How bad is it?" Thorin said in a hushed whisper, afraid of the answer. Aside from a few scratches across his face and the matter of his hand Kili appeared to be fine, but Thorin knew that the most serious wounds could be overlooked at first glance.

Gandalf released a heavy sigh, reluctant to speak. "He will live," he assented, shaking his head in regret. "For the moment I can offer no other consolation."

"H-his hand," Fili stammered, his pallour grey with anxiety, "He... it will heal, won't it?"

For several long moments Gandalf would not answer. "I cannot say."

Thorin whipped to face the wizard, eyes glowing with accusation. "What happened to him?"

"Was my fault," Fili murmured, hugging his brother closer, the gesture as tender and regretful as though he were facing the loss of the most precious thing in the world. "I ... I left him. He - the orc - it _burned_, and I could not stop him. I - I couldn't even protect him, Uncle. I..."

Fili's rambling was broken off in a fresh wave of tears. He bowed his head over Kili's inert form and sobbed, heedless of Bofur's comforting hand on his shoulder. Stricken with horror at the implications, Thorin demanded in a harsh whisper,

"What happened?"

"His hand caught fire," Gandalf abbreviated gravely. "An orc held him down. I have tried to reason with Fili that he was not to blame, but he has determined that he alone is responsible for Kili's injury."

"How serious is it?" Thorin pressed.

Once more Gandalf was loathe to respond, yet he knew well that Thorin would accept nothing less than the complete and brutal truth. Lowering his voice so that Fili would not overhear, he answered, "It is beyond my capabilities to fully mend. The scarring has fused his fingers together, and I cannot say if the damage can be undone. He will recover in time, but..."

"But he will never use the bow again," Thorin finished breathlessly.

He looked to his nephew, trying and failing to mask the despair in his eyes as his gaze was drawn to the strips of cloth binding Kili's hand. The bandages mocked him, haunting him with memories of a young life brimming with adventures and dreams, innocent and carefree as a child's first experience handling a bow.

_"Keep a firm grip on it, Kili, do not - "_

_"Ow!" Kili yelped and pressed a hand to his smarting cheek, rubbing the welt where the taut bowstring had slipped from his fingers and lashed his face. He glowered at the bow like it was an evil thing, throwing it to the ground and stamping on it in aggravation._

_Thorin closed his eyes and pleaded for the patience his sister was endowed with. Picking up the child sized weapon he clasped Kili's hand firmly around it, handing him another blunted arrow and assuring, "If you do not wish to learn, Kili, I will not stop you from leaving this field right now."_

_Unspoken was the promise, 'If you do not behave yourself and stop acting like a child, nothing will stop __**me**__ from ending this lesson and spending my sparse amount of time with your brother instead.' _

_Fili was a joy to train, the young dwarf soaking in every lesson - whether in sword fighting or defense strategies or stealth practice - and continually pleading for more. Kili, however, had a belligerent streak that surmised he would learn only when he so desired, listen when he felt inclined, and no one and nothing in Middle Earth could sway his mind once it was decided._

_Luckily for Thorin he knew enough from watching how Fili handled his headstrong brother to ascertain which threats would give him the most successful results. Kili was quite the possessive youngster, and the thought of such a rare occasion as Uncle Thorin spending an hour of his time with him being passed on to __**Fili**__ instead was enough to quell his rash temper._

_"No, wait! I'm ready, see? I can learn!" Clumsily Kili flipped his bow up and crookedly set an arrow to the string, the latter slipping from his fingers and plopping to the ground as his grip loosened. Kili's lower lip quivered and he stared gloomily at the offending piece, his eyes welling up with frustrated tears._

_Thorin sighed, irritation giving way to compassion. They had been practicing for nearly an hour with no results, and it was only reasonable for Kili to be agitated. By all rights he should be training alongside his brother in the use of a hatchet or short sword by now, but Kili's distinct lack of height had posed a difficulty. He was shorter than most children his age and nearly twice as frail. While Fili had inherited the brawn and fortitude of the dwarven men, D_i_s' young rebel had appeared to defy even physical expectations by taking after his mother. _

_It had brought no end to Kili's humiliation over the years, and now, at an age when he should be hefting a weapon that weighed nearly as much as he did, he was left with nothing more than a bow and arrow to prove his standing. To be failing in this last resort - in front of his Uncle Thorin, the famed heir of Durin no less - was enough to shatter what remained of the child's self esteem._

_One fat tear trickled down Kili's face and he sniffled miserably, swiping his damp eyes and trying to be brave like his uncle had told him to be. His chin wobbled unsteadily despite his best efforts and Thorin sensed the dam was about to give way. He was on his knees before his nephew in an instant, his strong arms wrapped around Kili's shoulders as the child burst into tears. _

_Thorin was not D_i_s; he could not magically turn off the storm with a quiet word or even talk Kili through what he was feeling at this moment. Even so he had an impression that the wracking sobs were due to years of pent up loneliness and vexation, of watching Fili grow up into an impressive young fighter who could only spend half time time with his little brother as he used to now that he was either training or having fun with children his own age, of merciless teasing for being the smallest or the weakest or having 'girly' features, of being the only one in the family - including D_i_s - who could not swing an axe without falling backwards, and now to top it all off he had failed to handle even the "simplest" of weapons. _

_It was no shame to wield a bow; in several family lines it was a talent to be passed on throughout the generations. Yet to Kili it was an object of scorn, for it was one more sign that he could not follow in the shadow of his heroic older brother. It was one more indication that he was being left further and further behind as Fili forged his own path. In nearly every aspect, whether in culture or destiny, Kili stood alone. _

_When his tears were spent Kili remained still for some time, longing for comfort in any form even if it were from his gruff, frequently stern uncle. Thorin was uncertain whether he should try to sooth the lad, pretend the event had never taken place, or order him to dry his tears and practice some more in the morning. He had no children of his own and therefore understood nothing of their young minds, nor did he ever intend to curse any poor dwarfling with his poor attempts at fatherhood. _

_Fili would have been easier to handle at this point; let him have his little tantrum, show him where he had gone wrong, and he would recover quickly and return to his studies with new resolve. Kili had his emotional ups and downs that raged rampart until Thorin felt dizzy trying to keep up. He never knew how to respond to the insecure child, and so he sufficed with merely holding him close until Kili decided he was ready to face the world again. _

_At last Kili moved away, swiping his dirty sleeve across his nose and straightening his shoulders in pretense that he was perfectly fine. His worried expression hinted that he was awaiting a lecture or dismissal for his show of weakness, and Thorin wondered at what point he had stopped being an uncle and tried to morph his nephew into a soldier. With a forced smile, attempting to hide the sadness in his own eyes, he clapped Kili on the shoulder and handed him back his arrow._

_"One day you will be the finest archer in the land, Kili," he swore with a thrill of pride. "I have faith in you."_

_Hope and wonder replaced the forlorn expression in Kili's eyes and he took the arrow with a sense of awe. His posture displayed a renewed confidence as Thorin showed him the proper stance from which to aim, and this time the arrow flew within several yards of its intended target, rebounded off a tree and bounced off a stone before flopping pitifully in the grass._

_Well, at least it was a start._

_Kili pouted, glancing at Thorin with an uncertain expression. Thorin shrugged helplessly in response. Attempting to stave off another meltdown, he offered his nephew a beaming smile and wondered if his too-wide grin looked as pained as it felt. _

Thorin had observed in amazement as the anxious child who could not properly fit an arrow to a bowstring grew into a confident young man, one of the greatest archers in the Blue Mountains and also Fili's inseparable companion. At times Thorin could not recognize his brazen nephew, so stark was the contrast to his skitish hesitancy in the past.

Archery became Kili's source of pride, his feats and his accomplishments determined by a keen aim and a swift draw. While Kili did eventually learn the arts of the sword and hammer as well, Fili would often declare that his brother was not more in his element than with the smooth arch of his bow under his fingertips. (That, and when he was chasing the wind in the highest tree branches, Fili would point out ruefully.)

There was no humor in Thorin's mind at the recollection of his nephew's jesting, however. His eyes were riveted on the makeshift bandages, and for a moment he could deceive himself that the strips of cloth could hide and therefore erase the devastation underneath. He could not imagine his youngest nephew without the full usage of both his hands, and he did not want to be the one to confess the news to Kili.

The revelation would shatter him.

* * *

**Hey, relax. It's me. **

**Okay, so panic already. I have a warped mind and a muse that thrives on coffee. But keep in mind, this is only the beginning. There may be hope for our favorite archer yet. :)**

**The muse is currently chomping down macaroni and cheese and pie and meticulously picking out the chocolate chips from its cookies and eating those by themselves. It is very happy with its treats, and it seems to be in a better mood since someone slipped it a caramel mocha at one point...**

**Well, what can I say. This new muse seems to have an coffee-related addiction to pure angst lightly sprinkled with fluff. Perhaps a few frappuccinos might do it some good after all.**

**Remember to feed the muse, as a well fed muse is a happy muse, and a happy muse is always inspired. ;)**


	4. Dreams

_STILL WHEN THEY WHISPER IN HIS EAR, _

_HE TRIES TO READ BETWEEN THE LINES..._

* * *

_Kili edged closer to the fire, crawling on his elbows and knees and making tiny mewling sounds as he tilted his head adorably at his favorite cat. Fili stiffened close by, ready to drag his brother away the moment Kili was in danger of singing himself. _

_Fili __**said **__that he was sitting close to the fire so that he could study comfortably, but Kili had already seen that the book was upside down and his brother couldn't possibly be reading it... unless he had gotten __**really **__good at deciphering scribes. Besides, Fili hadn't turned the page for a long time now, and Kili knew he was always finishing books really fast. No, big brother was just trying to interrupt his play and boss him around again. It wasn't nice at all of him, because Kili was really interested in his game right now and he didn't want to stop. _

_Mewy - surnamed Edíma by D_í_s who insisted a cat have a proper name - was Kili's cat-and-no-one-else's-cat and no one had the right to interrupt his playtime with his own cat. Right now he was pretending to be her kitten, soft and fluffy and adorable and having a lot of fun._

_Shuffling forward and rubbing new holes in the elbows and knees of his clothes, Kili ducked his head down and pressed his chin to the floor, trying to look as small as possible. Mewy granted him one casual glance and proceeded to ignore him. Not discouraged in the least, he wormed his way closer and nudged his head against her fur like he had seen her do to that other scrawny cat that had been hanging around lately._

_Vashtë turned her head away and ignored the petulant creature, meticulously smoothing down her gleaming coat before he decided to rub her fur in all manner of directions and squeeze and kiss her until she was nearly strangled. Most proud godesses as she would have clawed his eyes out for such an indignity, but Vashtë was a very good cat and she did try to be a substitute mother to the over sized furless beast that was in sore need of a proper upbringing. Despite the level of respect she should demand of her household she had not scratched him once. Not a single graze. _

_Even so there was a limit to what she would put up with, and while she might clean his dirty little face while he wrinkled his nose and made that hideous chortling sound, endure his piercing squeals of joy when he saw her and took chase, and accept his humble sacrifice of his own pillow for her to sleep on at night, she would not entertain his little game of 'Follow the gentle goddess around and pretend to be worthy of her by groveling like a despicable puppy.'_

_Kili pouted when his "surrogate mother" paid him no notice, finally giving in and wrapping one arm around her to flop her ungraciously against him. Mewy let out a subdued yowl of protest, twisting out of his grasp and flicking her tail in his face as though chastising him for such uncouth behavior. She sat down pertly with her back to him, ears tilted back and large yellow eyes fixated on the crackling fireplace._

_With a heaving sigh Kili wriggled forward until he was crouched beside her, mimicking her pose (though he couldn't put his ears back no matter how much he tried), and watching the embers hiss and pop._

_An amber moth fluttered at the heart of the flames, wreathing into a lashing serpent before leaping in the form of a deer to prance about in a forest of burning pines. From the far corner a wolf crept forward, loping in slow grace towards its prey. The deer spread its wings and morphed into a thrush, evading the hunter before vanishing in a flicker of gold. The wolf, which now looked rather like a monstrous bear with the features of a fox, turned its burnished crimson gaze to Kili and leapt._

_Without warning a sizable coal spewed out in an explosion of sparks, bouncing onto the floor just shy of Kili's right hand. He drew in a sharp breath, frozen in place as Mewy spasmed into a fit and pelted away._

_The memory was suddenly distorted, events Kili knew __**must **__happen never taking place. Fili was supposed to dash forward and shove him out of harm's away, scooping the live ember back into the fire before any damage could be done. Instead the fire lashed out and grabbed Kili's hand, blinding him with such agony as he had never known, pain that whited out the room before - _

Kili snapped awake with a gasp, instinctively clutching his right hand as the nightmare fled into the darkness. He was lying outside, a canopy of stars winking cheerily above him. The cool evening breeze and the warmth of the small fire some distance away calmed his fright and assured him that all was well. There had been no flash of burning light, no crippling pain, and Fili had reached him in time as Kili had known he would. Everything was -

A thousand knives lanced up his wrist and the back of his hand, a stifled whimper escaping Kili as the pain caught him off guard. His eyes widened as he recognized the bulk of a makeshift bandage, his breath coming in rapid bursts as he shook his head in denial, "_No, no, no, no, no..."_

"Kili? Kili!"

Fili had only left for a moment, needing to take care of some personal business and not anticipating that Kili would awaken during that time. Dread filled him and he lurched to Kili's side, grabbing his arms and gingerly holding him still as his brother tried to rip away the bandages.

Kili swatted at Fili's hands and struggled in his grasp, scrabbling frantically at the cloth strips binding his hand and whining in bewildered frustration when his efforts were hindered. He was in a full state of panic now, too caught up in the urgency to prove his nightmare false than to take notice of Fili's frantic shouts.

"Kili, please calm down! You'll be all right, it - it's not as bad as it looks! Kili - Thorin, help me with him!"

Calloused, weather beaten hands forcibly grabbed Kili's shoulders, shaking him once and startling him out of his delirium. His teeth clacked together and the haze of confusion lifted momentarily, allowing him to see Thorin's stern, fearful expression as he shouted,

"That is enough, Kili!"

Kili's eyes were wide and terrified, and he was swiftly hyperventilating. The litany repeated in his mind as he tried in vain to twitch the fingers of his right hand. _No, no, no, no, please, no, please, please ..._

"Kili. _**Look at me**_."

That was a strict order not from his uncle, but from Thorin Oakenshield himself. He dared not disregard it. With an effort Kili met Thorin's eyes, convulsively gaping for air as his hysteria robbed him of the natural instinct to breath.

Fili's arms were wrapped tightly around his chest, his brother's voice strained and broken as he pleaded softly, "Please stop this, Kili. Please, brother. For me."

Something in Fili's small, scared voice broke through his turmoil and Kili found the strength to fill his lungs again, taking deep gulps of air as the black dots swarming his vision began to recede A torn expression flitted across Thorin's expression and for a fleeting moment Kili thought he looked as though he might cry. His mind was only playing tricks on him, of course, for he knew his uncle would never show such a display of weakness even when he was alone.

Kili wanted to demand what had happened to him, to scream at his brother that his suspicions were not true, to bury himself in a deep, dark place and escape into a world of silence where his fears would never come to light.

He could only watch in mute horror as Thorin pressed lightly against the point where his fingers _might_ have been if he could only have felt them.

"Do you feel any pain?" Thorin inquired gravely.

Kili shook his head, his breath quickening again before Fili's grip tightened and grounded him back to the present.

"It is likely temporary," Thorin assured, though it seemed to Kili that he doubted his own words. "The shock of the wound... It will pass."

His voice was hollow, as though he was attempting to convince himself rather than his nephew.

"...U-Uncle?" Kili stammered, begging for some form of reassurance that this was but a terrible dream. "Gandalf can heal it... can't he?"

Thorin would not meet his eyes. "Get some sleep," he ordered softly, rising to his feet and turning away. "Morning will tell."

Kili scoffed, for he knew he would not be able to shut his eyes that night. He slumped in his brother's arms and turned his face away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. He tried desperately to move his fingers, biting his lip in his fervency until he tasted blood. One lone tear trickled down his cheek and he surrendered in hopeless defeat.

Fili was soothing him gently, whispering lies of comfort and stroking his hair back just like Mum used to do whenever Kili was upset. It did nothing to ease his turmoil and Kili pulled away, curling into a tight ball with his arms wrapped around his legs. It was an old defensive tactic from his childhood, as though the smaller he made himself the safer he would be from his problems.

Only this time the crisis did not involve clomping around in Uncle Thorin's boots and tracking mud inside after D_i_s had just cleaned the floor, or clambering into the cupboards to search for hidden sweets and dropping Mummy's favorite dish on Fili's head. This was something he could not hide from nor brush away with a puppy eyed expression and Mummy's good favor. It was inescapable, a nightmare that Kili despaired he would never wake from. And he _must_ wake, for he could not face the possibility that he would never feel the graceful curve of his favored weapon again.

"_You're a really good shot, Kili."_

_Praise from his brother never failed to send a thrill of excitement through Kili. A radiant grin lit up his features as he carefully took aim and launched an arrow into the heart of his target, crouching down and releasing another at a different angle. He was still too slow for real hunting, but Uncle Thorin had told him that if he continued to improve so rapidly then he might catch his first rabbit by the end of spring. _

_"Do you... want to come practice?" Kili asked hesitantly, afraid that the answer would be 'no' but longing for just a few minutes to pretend that Fili was his loving big brother again. _

_Fili made no objection to Kili's request, however, leaping over the low fence separating them and approaching with an air of confidence that Kili envied. He regarded the targets Uncle Thorin had set up with admiration, not appearing to notice the fact that only half of Kili's arrows had hit their mark._

_"I haven't learned to use a bow," he admitted, examining Kili's weapon and testing the string. "Uncle says I should, though. He says it's just as important as sword fighting."_

_"Really?" Kili said with some doubt. Thorin had told him the same thing, but he still was convinced that archery was a nice excuse of a defense for the weaker dwarves who could not do anything else. For his big brother to reveal he had been encouraged to learn the skill was like saying horses were easier to ride than ponies. _

_Fili nodded somberly, taking one of Kili's sharp tipped arrows and pointing it at one of the closer targets. The bowstring bent easier in his strong grip than it had for Kili when he first began, and Kili's heart sank as he realized Fili would prove he was better than him in archery, too, and then Uncle Thorin would have no reason to be proud of Kili any longer. Kili had been doing so well, too! He had thought that since he was the 'bestest archer in the family' then he would have his own special place among them, 'cause Fili was the best at sword fighting for his age and he always got complimented by everyone, including the more experienced wariors. Kili, on the other hand... all Kili had was that stupid bow and now even that talent was going to be taken away from him. _

_Kili bravely sniffed back a tear and tried not to care, wanting to be grateful that Fili was spending time with him. It would be stupid to cry like a baby just because his only special gift was going to be counted for naught. He wanted to be glad for Fili to be learning to use a bow, too; he really did. ... He just wished Fili didn't have to be better in __**everything**__, that was all. _

_Kili dragged his foot across the grass and bit his lip, looking down so that he would not have to see Fili's arrow hit the center of the target on his first try. There was a sharp __**twang**__ and a rustle of leaves, followed closely by an explosive swear in Khuzdul that Mummy would have boxed Fili's ears for had she heard it. Kili glanced up with a slight gasp, eyes widening in delight when he saw the arrow stuck high in a tree branch._

_"I was aiming for that," Fili blustered, his face reddening as he returned Kili's bow with chagrin._

_"You hafta hold it like this," Kili instructed, positioning Fili's hands just like Uncle Thorin had showed him months before. _

_He could not believe that he was showing his big brother how to use a bow, especially when Fili was the one who knew everything and was always teaching __**him**__. He hoped Fili would not think he was being made fun of. All Kili wanted was to show his brother that he was not a bother to be around, and maybe this was his chance. Maybe if he stayed quiet and did not tease Fili for his aim, and maybe if he was really, really nice in showing his brother how to shoot so that he could impress Uncle Thorin when his lessons started, then Fili might start spending time with him again and they could play that they were fighting imaginary orcs and dragons and then Fili would give him a piggy-back ridge home and pretend he was a horse and then - _

_But all that was too much to ask for. Kili knew he should be grateful his brother was even __**speaking**__ to him, let alone practicing archery. After all, the other dwarves Fili's age said that Kili was a nuisance and a spoiled brat for tagging along with his brother everywhere, and since Fili had never told him otherwise Kili could only accept that it was true. It __**hurt**__ to think that Fili did not want him around, but Kili had to be strong like Uncle Thorin said warriors should be and pretend he did not feel as though his small world was going to end. _

_"I heard Doír and Malan were teasing you about your bow," Fili mentioned somberly, drawing back another arrow and wincing as it missed the target by yards. _

_Kili's head shot up, tears springing to his eyes in spite of his best efforts. The bigger dwarves had said that Fili thought his weapon was a girl's tool and proof that he would never be as good a warrior. "They told me you said you didn't want to be my brother any more," he said miserably, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "They said I wasn't a proper dwarf an' you disown-ded me."_

_Fili's arrow shot wide off the mark, and this time it was not on account of his ill practice. "They told you that?" he questioned in a still, indiscernable tone._

_Kili nodded mutely, afraid he had said something very wrong. What if Fili would be angry at him for revealing the things he had heard from his brother's friends? Worse still, what if they were true?_

_"Please don't hate me," he whispered dejectedly, unwilling to even look at his brother._

_Fili was taking in deep, slow breaths, as though he were trying hard to control his fury. He said nothing, only scooping up a bewildered Kili and setting him on his shoulders. He gathered most of the scattered arrows and began walking, his pace brisk as it it was whenever he paced to regain some sense of control._

_"Did they tell you I hated you?" he asked in a low tone, his words clipped and forced._

_Brought to tears and unsure whether it was a good or bad thing that Fili was mad, Kili nodded. Fili halted, his hands quivering as he squeezed Kili's wrists affectionately and looked up at him with a fervency that defied all manner of deception. _

_"I will __**never**__ hate you, brother," he swore. "Even if you sprouted pointy ears and ran away to live as an elf you would still be my brother."_

_Kili dared to hope, wanted so desperately to believe those words were true, but still he quavered, "But they said - "_

_"They lied," Fili responded tersely. This time Kili knew that his brother's anger was not directed at him. "They're a lot of dishonorable cowards, picking on you like that. Why didn't you tell me? How long has this been going on?"_

_Kili hid his face in his brother's hair and shook his head, refusing to answer. Fili sighed deeply and stood quietly for a moment._

_"Kili, you're my __**brother**__. I will never stop loving you, no matter what others might say. In fact, I'm __**glad**__ you're learning to use a bow. It's a talent that not many dwarves put to good use these days, and I think it's only right that you should be the best at it. I wish that I could shoot as well as you can."_

_"Really?" This time Kili perked up a little, astonished by the honest compliment._

_"Of course," Fili assured. "What good is a sword if your enemy is standing forty paces away with a crossbow? Or what if I wanted to kill an orc without alerting the other scouts? Archery is more than a form of art, Kili. It's a weapon of stealth; a sure promise of silent death. In an army the archers are always the first to be targetted, strategy speaking. They can pick out the leaders one by one without endangering themselves in hand to hand combat."_

_"I didn't know that," Kili gushed excitedly, leaning over Fili's head and looking like a frizzled, scrawny owl as he soaked in his brother's every word. _

_"Mm-hm," Fili mused, wracking his brain for further details. "In fact, did you know that Uncle Thorin's second cousin's great-great uncle was the finest archer in all the land? He even saved the king's life on more than one occasion."_

_"Uh-uh," Kili shook his head, enraptured by the thought that his silly little bow and arrow was counted as such a valued skill by his ancestors._

_Well, Fili knew nothing himself about any great-great cousin's uncle's twin brother - or whatever he had said - being an archer, but if a little white lie was enough to convince Kili that his archery a matter of pride rather than shame, he would claim Uncle Thorin was an elf in disguise and that Doír and Malan were miniature trolls... though he was not certain he would be lying about the latter part._

_"Do you really think I'm a good shot?" Kili asked in a small voice, drawing into himself like he always did when he was feeling shy and out of place._

_Fili grinned, his eyes twinkling fondly as he boasted with all sincerity, "Only the best."_

_Kili had never doubted his brother, positive in his naiive, childlike ways that Fili would speak to him with absolute truth and nothing less. If Fili thought that he was the greatest archer in the world, then even the elves could not do better. If Fili claimed that he loved him and he would never ever hate him even if Kili ran away and stopped being a dwarf, then Kili was assured he had the bestest, most loyalest big brother ever._

_And if Fili promised him in that somber, chilling tone that he would "have a discussion" with Doír and Malan about the teasing, then Kili could only anticipate a thunderous lecture from Uncle Thorin over why Beríce's sons ran home sporting black eyes and bloodied noses, swearing they never wanted to speak to a son of Durin again._

Thorin had taught him the uses of a bow, but it was Fili who had given him confidence. Archery had decided Kili's path. It was what set him apart from the others and made him believe that his "unique" qualities were valued rather than despised. It was the one area where he could outmatch his "perfect" brother and make his uncle proud. Sometimes, in his own private thoughts, Kili wondered if it had ensured his place in the company when Thorin might otherwise have ordered him to stay home.

Archery was his very _life_. Without it, Kili was lost, and this time he feared not even his brother could stir up the dying embers of his fragmented dreams.

* * *

***Muse stares critically at the Word Document before yipping in approval and dashing off the computer desk, chasing imaginary plot bunnies and bonking into furniture.***

**So, Coffee + Hyper Muse = ... Further Angst? Wow, strange contradiction to the one from ****I Will Protect You****. At least this muse hasn't thrown me any unexpected plot twists... yet. **

**Many thanks to all the reviewers who are feeding the muse. Your offerings of sugared delicacies and coffee (and mangos) ensure the muse is continued to be inspired. :)**


	5. Here

**In response to a question from the reader, Kili's cat technically has 3 names so far: Dís calls her Edíma, Kili insists her name is Mewy, and the cat has given herself the honorable title of Vashtë. Her foremost name in my fics, however, shall always be "Mewy." (As we all know, Kili is so **_**very**_** creative when it comes to entitling his pets.)**

* * *

**For those who have already read the past four chapters: The Lyrics below are from Transiberian Orchestra: Beethoven's Midnight. The starting lines have been edited into former chapters.**

* * *

_WHAT I SEE IN THE NIGHT,_

_WHAT I FEEL IN YOUR HEART,_

_ALL YOUR DREAMS, ALL YOUR LIES!_

_CAN YOU TELL THEM APART?_

* * *

'Good morning' and 'Kili' were two words that were never meant to be strung together in the same sentence.

Kili was as pleasant to wake as a troll, always whining in complaint and scrunching up into a tighter wad under the covers. It often proved a challenge for Fili's creativity; finding a new and improved method to goad his brother out of bed every morning. Once - when he was younger of course and knew no better - he had worked himself into a state of mock hysterics and convinced everyone that Kili would never wake again. The joke had been hilarious... until mother started crying as she hugged a bewildered (and now wide awake) Kili and Thorin cast Fili such a dark, disappointed glower that he had not put a toe out of line for a week.

Kili had always slept curled towards the fire, for that matter. D_i_s often rolled her eyes and proclaimed that her youngest had followed his cat around too long during childhood and had firmly convinced himself that he was one of her long lost kin. Kili would shrug and complain that it was too cold (even in mid-summer), and voice his curiosity that anyone would sleep any other way. Fili held his own unspoken opinion; that even in his dreams the enchanting flames called to his brother, beckoning him to join in their dance.

For Kili to be awake at the crack of dawn, his back turned to the fire and his eyes ringed with exhaustion, was enough cause for Fili to worry.

A fresh pang of guilt to cut through Fili and he tossed an uneccessary log on the fire, putting a little too much weight on his injured leg and wincing at the pull of muscle. Gandalf had quickened the healing process by several weeks, but he himself admitted he was not a master of the art and even Thorin was still dealing with repercussions of the White Warg's attack.

Fili did not want to imagine how Kili was coping with his injury right now. Kili had refused to speak to anyone since tearing the bandage from his hand at the first sign of light, blocking out even the voice of his dear elder brother as he retreated into his own inner sanctuary. Fili should have been grateful that Kili had not collapsed in another panic attack, but to him this seemed worse.

It was not right for Kili to remain so inverted and still. His eyes should have reflected either torment or acceptance, not this blank emptiness that caused a shudder to run through Fili, as though Kili's soul had already departed and he was viewing his brother's corpse. Kili should have shouted at him for not coming to his rescue sooner, or begged Gandalf to create a miracle. For all that Fili cared, his brother could have cursed Thorin in every language of Middle Earth for the foolhardiness of his suicidal quest. Anything would have been preferable to this eerie silence.

All the same he could not blame Kili for his disquiet. Fili himself had lost the bout with nausea upon viewing the damage to his brother's hand.

The fingers were curled inwards, the last two nearly touching the palm, the others jutting out partially like crooked claws. His thumb had been soldered to the latter two, as though his hand was frozen in a half attempt at a fist. The skin was pitted and heavily scarred, the flesh seared away until the nerves themselves were damaged. The back of Kili's hand and the wrist had taken the least of the damage and still bore red, tender skin that was painful to the touch.

Had Fili not fallen prey to exhaustion he might have stopped Kili from removing the bandage too soon, or at least have comforted his brother when he discovered the grim truth. As it was Kili had woken alone, drowning in a tummolt of despondency and loss, and when Fili had finally shaken himself from his slumber his brother was huddled a distance from the camp, unresponsive save to tuck his head further into the crook of his left arm and hide his face from the world.

Fili would have lopped his right hand off if it could have spared Kili the horror of seeing his own crippled and mangled beyond recognition. Fili could not imagine facing life without the thrill of his two swords flashing in the throe of combat, but he would gladly have sufficed with one if it had meant his brother could be whole. For Kili would never be whole without his bow; he would never be the same again.

"Has he woken yet?"

Fili startled at Thorins' voice, turning with almost a wince of guilt for having been caught by himself. Never mind his thoughts that Kili should have a few minutes alone as his brother clearly desired, nor that he, too, needed time to sort out his thoughts. He should never have let down his guard and strayed from his brother's side.

"We cannot wait for him to decide whether or not he is capable of living with this ...unexpected inhibition," Thorin said curtly. "Either he leaves with us now, or he goes back home where he belongs."

Thorin, too, had seen the extent of the injury, and the turmoil hidden in his eyes was only apparent to Fili. Years of watching his uncle hide behind a charade of bitterness and acrimony had given him insight into Thorin's methods of controlling himself and the circumstances around him. Fili had learned to recognize the rigid stance and terse words of his uncle as a defensive barricade against the doubts which would plague any other dwarf and thereby bring their quest to a swift and dispiriting end. Even so it never ceased to anger Fili that Thorin could act so calloused, and he rounded with no thought as to the consequences.

"Can you not give him a _moment_ to himself? Is this all that matters to you in the end? This _suicide _march to a dragon's lair that offers no promise of anything save further misfortune? Have you succumbed to the same madness that lost us Erabor, that you care nothing for your own sister's son?"

Thorin's eyes flashed and Fili knew he had crossed a line. He refused to back off, however, staring his leader down even as those witnessing the silent battle shuddered and hastily found some non-sequential, useless task with which to distract themselves. Thorin's gaze was flinty and hard, his resolve unwavering even in face of his nephew's challenge.

"Go get your brother," he ordered in a low, clipped tone. "I will not allow you to pamper Kili while he wallows in self pity. Either he deals with his injury and continues on, or he goes home."

With that ultimatum Thorin spun on his heel and stalked away. Fili could barely restrain the urge to throw a sizable rock at his uncle's retreating back. His jaw set in fury and his hands shaking in clenched fists at his sides, he stomped between a nervous Ori and Nori and kicked viciously at a clod of dust.

For a moment Fili seethed quietly, weighing the possibilities of smashing a boulder with his fist or tearing a tree up by the roots and flinging it into the distance. He wanted nothing more than to shake Thorin until his teeth rattled in his skull, until his uncle saw the harm he was doing to Kili and until this insatiable rage of his own was past. As common sense slowly filtered in, however, Fili realized he had no other choice.

His uncle's words drew him back to a time when he had faced a debilitating injury of his own. It had been paltry in comparison to what Kili was facing now, yet it had appeared critical to his identity at the time. Even without the comparison to his brother's wound, Fili often looked back and recalled with mortification how pathetically he had reacted, and wondered what circumstances might have decided his path had he continued in that state.

_"Fili, Uncle Thorin says to stop acting like a child and get up this instant." Kili offered his best 'Evil Thorin' glower to accompany the message, his attempt foiled by the impish gleam in his eyes. Would that Thorin Oakenshield looked so pathetic when issuing a decree._

_Immune to all bribery, threats and pleading by this time, Fili crossed his arms and sulked against the wall. He kicked away the block of wood he had been hacking to death, smirking in pained satisfaction when it spun into the wall. Bofur had suggested that the art of whittling might ease his nerves and help to pass the time. So far Fili's efforts had produced two deep cuts on his left hand and a distorted artifact that resembled a half eaten squirrel. Kili eyed the mangled piece of wood with pity, nudging it away with his foot before adressing his brother again._

_"Fili, you have got to put a stop to this. Mother is beside herself with worry, and Uncle has threatened to disown you."_

_A skeptical glance was shot in his direction and Kili relented. "All right, so he is too nerve wracked about the thought of putting __**me**__ on the throne to take such drastic action. Honestly though, Fili, you have been brooding in here for a week! It is only a stab wound; you have survived worse! This is not like you, brother."_

_"I am not setting foot outside this house until I can best him on my own two feet," Fili retorted, pointedly looking away and pretending Kili was non-existant._

_Kili sighed, rolled his eyes at his brother's nonsense. It was a rare occasion when Fili's pride overwhelmed common sense, but once his brother determined he was immovable nothing would sway him. _

_"This is about Doír beating you again, isn't it? I told you you should watch your footwork. You may as well have begged for him to stab you in the leg for all you did to avoid it."_

_"I did not ask for you to criticize my tactics, Kili," Fili growled in warning. _

_"Admit it, he is a better swordsman than you! There is no reason to be ashamed, Fili; we cannot expect to be perfect, even if we are of royal descent!"_

_"Easy for you to say." Fili cast him a scathing glower, the brief instant of hurt and mortification that he knew had darted across his eyes causing Kili to flinch. "You have no competition with that cantankerous bow of yours. You cannot begin to understand."_

_Kili's eyes flashed like muted embers breaking forth from the coals. "You're wrong, Fili."_

_This time it was Fili's turn to wince and he hastily backtracked, recognizing his error. "It's has been __**years **__since you proved yourself, Kili. You established your right as Thorin's heir far sooner than anyone could have anticipated."_

_"You were practicing with two swords by your fifteenth summer," Kili pointed out. "You have more right to walk confidently out of this room than I."_

_Fili shot his brother a dark look, a clear warning for him not to fall into a state of melodrama again. As much as he despised reminiscing bitter thoughts of the past, however, it was only fair that Kili be made to understand._

_"You remember when you first began your archery lessons, when some dwarves scorned your choice of weapon?"_

_"Among other things," Kili replied in a snarl. Likely the taunts had yet to cease entirely, then, if his brother remained this defensive._

_"Doír was one of them," Fili broached. "He was their leader, so to speak, as he had a ... creative range of insults."_

_"I remember now," Kili nodded, dark eyes drifting to the side as he pushed back painful memories._

_"He stopped targetting you after I gave him an, erm, _friendly _reminder to leave you alone." Fili smirked as he remembered with dry humor, "He was chewing his own teeth for a week afterwards."_

_Serious once more, he continued, "Doír used his defeat as his inspiration. He resolved from thereon to best me in combat - "_

_"And he succeeded," Kili filled in. He was beginning to grasp Fili's point._

_Fili nodded, his eyes dark. "He has been ridiculing me for fifteen years, Kili. __**Fifteen**__ years."_

_"You do not often allow petty taunts to sway you," Kili shook his head, certain there was more that Fili chose not to tell him. "Why should he cause you such consternation?"_

_Fili smiled grimly, his eyes haunted with bitter anger "If it were only my honor at stake I could have ignored him, but he has determined my weakness. I... did not wish for anyone to learn of it, particularly Uncle, lest Doír take advantage of the attention and return to tormenting... former victims."_

_Kili's eyes narrowed as a suspicion formed. "He could not possibly be using... me?... Against you?" _

_Fili snorted softly, casting his brother an assuring glance. "He has shown little ingenuity, using the same repetetive taunts he has for years. Still," Again his expression clouded with surpressed rage, "I swore from childhood that no one would ever speak of you in so demeaning a manner without receiving payment in full."_

_Kili sighed, ducking his head slightly and kicking at the fur rug. "Fili, you do not have to fight my battles for me. I am accustomed to the teasing by now - "_

_"You expect that I would idly stand by while they scorn my brother?" Fili snapped. His vehemence was directed elsewhere, yet Kili received the full brunt of his anger. "You have not heard the range of insults they reserve only for you! The faithfulness of our mother is the tamest of their accusations, and were I to illiterate every derisive statement they have contrived you would never desire to set foot in the Blue Mountains again!"_

_Kili swallowed hard and leaned back against the doorway, dragging his toe across the floor in uncertainty as to what he should say. Fili sighed hard and threw his wittling knife across the room, satisfied minutely when the blade thunked into the opposite wall._

_"I will not allow them to belittle you, Kili. Not while I have any say in the matter. One day I will wipe that surly leer off Doír's face, and I hope his arrogance is crushed to the point where he can never again look at a son of Durin without trembling in his boots." _

_Kili smiled crookedly at the thought, and Fili was relieved that his brother appeared undaunted by his revelation. "I suppose we shall have to contrive another excuse for Uncle to allow you to remain in bed," Kili mused. "Should I break your other leg?"_

_At Fili's distrustful glower he grinned and added, "Or perhaps you would at least join us for breakfast before you resume your destructive carvings? I am certain some poor child has searched anxiously for a collection of slaughtered squirrels."_

_Fili grabbed an unmarred block of wood and lobbed it at his brother's head. Kili's eyes widened and he clumsily ducked, laughing as he stepped forward and offered a hand to assist Fili to his feet. _

_"Come on, then. Uncle promised you should be walking normally in a matter of weeks, and until then I can always show you the finer points of the bow and arrow. You really are a terrible shot."_

_"Only if Doír is used as the target," Fili responded to his brother's good natured jibe._

_"Not fair!" Kili whined. "You would never miss if we contrived such a scheme, and then I could not hope to beat you ever again! I shall likely lose my honor as an archer."_

_Fili's chuckle was broken off by a wince of pain as he put his weight on his bad leg. Instantly Kili was at his side, drawing his brother's arm over his shoulders and guiding him out of the room. _

_"We shall have to insist Uncle stands against a tree with an apple on his head," Kili determined with a sharp nod. "You would not dare miss."_

_"I nearly lost one leg already," Fili growled, shooting him an evil glower. "I would prefer to keep my head intact, thank you."_

_"Nonsense," Kili retorted cheekily, "You could never look worse than that wretched squirrel you tortured."_

* * *

_D_i_s was a patient mother, a feat to be admired considering her two raucous sons and twerp of a brother. Having borne every mishap they could have conjured between the three them she was accustomed to any manner of unconventional behavior which took place in the household._

_Hence she was unfazed when her youngest streaked past her in a dark blur, screaming something about cold blooded murder as a __**supposed **__to be lamed Fili followed in swift pursuit._

* * *

The fond memory of Kili's attempts to goad him out of his own sullen state was enough to calm the fiery embers of Fili's anger, if not extinguish them completely. Thorin was right; as much as Fili longed to give his brother more time to accustom to his loss, the more Kili was permitted to languish in despair the harder it would be to break him free of his despondency.

With an effort of will Fili reined in his temper, walked with a more subdued gait to his brother's side.

"Kili?" Fili placated softly, hesitating a moment before gently shaking the younger dwarf's shoulder. Kili ignored him, shifting slightly to better conceal his face and show that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. His brother should have been granted that one small comfort, but for Kili's sake as well as their own, time was a luxery they could not afford.

Fili did not plead with Kili, nor cajoll him to act reasonably. He merely gathered his brother into his arms and held him close. Fili had to swallow back his own tears when Kili ducked his head into the crook of his arm, trembling quietly; whether from pain, despair, or the longing to have someone close Fili did not know.

"Kili, I know this is...impossible to... for me to even begin to understand, and nothing I could say or do could be of any comfort..." Fili grimaced and chided himself, fearful he would only worsen his brother's state of mind. "I'm here for you... that is all I can say... I'm here, Kili."

Kili shook convulsively, his left hand clenching into Fili's cloak as a lifeline. "F-Fili?" he called softly at last, his voice wretched and hopeless like a child waiting to be abandoned in the darkness.

"I'm here," Fili whispered, holding his brother all the more securely.

"S-Scared," Kili said in a hushed tone, cringing in shame at his own admission. "Wh - What am I going to do, Fili?"

Fili considered for a long moment, taking one slow breath after another until he felt Kili relax marginally. "We survive, and we carry on," he replied solemnly, knowing there was no other answer he could give.

"Can't," Kili replied bitterly, his smile born of broken acceptance. "Useless now."

"You will _never_ be useless to this quest, or to me," Fili responded fervently, as though commanding his brother to understand. "Were your legs crippled and your hands useless I would carry you over the mountains myself. It is not your bow that defines you, brother, just as my swords will never determine who I am to my family. We will _never_ abandon you."

Kili blinked hard against the moisture gathering in his eyes, and Fili squeezed him one last time before lifting him to his feet. "Come on, then," he twisted his brother's words with a gentle smile, "Uncle promised you should be walking normally in a matter of weeks, and until then I can always show you the finer points of that sword you carry around. Your footwork is terrible, you know."

Despite the tempest that threatened to engulf him Kili forced a ghost of a smile, enfolding himself into Fili's arms one last time before turning back to the camp. Fili put a hand to his shoulder reassuringly, there to support his brother throughout whatever trials he faced next.

It was time for Kili to accept the viscious blow fate had dealt to him, and to survive. He would not traverse this dark path by himself, however, just as he had not permitted Fili to years before.

"I promise you, Kili," Fili swore, "Whatever happens next, I will never leave you to face this on your own. I will always be here for you, brother."

* * *

**Hehehehe! The muse and I have been conspiring over several lifetimes worth of coffee and Transiberian Orchestra soundtracks, and we have determined the end for this beautiful fic. Don't worry, it is far from over yet. ;)**

**Hm, should I comfort the readers with a tidbit of hope, or dash their dreams, or should I just leave this chapter be and allow everyone to wonder what will transpire ere the end?**

**Nah, I'll just leave a little tidbit to chew on and reveal what the muse and I have discovered with malicious malignity.**

**SPOILER! ****This "tragic accident" was on no account mere chance. Twas planned out beforehand, though exactly how I shall not say...**


	6. Loyalty, Honor and a Willing Heart

_SEE THE HANDS ON THE CLOCK,_

_ARE YOU WATCHING THEM TURN?_

* * *

Silence was usually an indication that Thorin had cause to worry. In his experience it signified that either his nephews were conspiring a new scheme against his peace and tranquility, or one of them was injured to the extent that any manner of frivolity was neither instigated nor welcomed.

In this case the tension in the air was suffocating, and no lighthearted bantering from his nephews would ease the strain. Kili's gaze was focused straight ahead, registering nothing save the imperative need to put one foot in front of the other until his brother ordered him to stop moving. The cloud of gloom emanating from him was a stark contrast to his typical cheerful outlook. Beside him Fili hovered anxiously, frequently twitching as though to reach out and steady his brother before he thought better of it.

Neither jokes nor pranks shattered the terse atmosphere. At one time Thorin would have relished the quiet – were he not concerned over what his nephews were plotting in the meantime – but the cause for this unnatural stillness dragged at his spirit and devoured prior visions of hope and triumph upon reclaiming Erabor.

From the start Thorin had been reluctant in allowing Kili to accompany them. Although the lad was old enough to make his own decisions about his future, he remained in Thorin's eyes the young rebel set on conquering the world, swept away in the thrill of a cause and the illusion of his own invulnerability. For Kili the quest had been yet another adventure, a chance to prove himself and drive his uncle to madness while he was at it.

Fili, on the other hand, was the reasonable of the two brothers; the one who weighed each decision with the utmost care and determined the wisdom or folly of a course before taking action. Though Thorin might have insisted his eldest nephew remain behind to guide their people should he never return, he had determined that Fili's part in reclaiming Erabor would provide both the confidence and leadership he would require to rule in his uncle's stead. Fili had understood the gravity of their mission from the start. Thorin could trust that no matter what happened his nephew would not be shaken.

Kili, in contrast, had skirted around the grim reality of death and irreparable loss since childhood. In a vindictive stroke of fate he was now grasping the inevitable: that life was brutal and the enemy ruthless, that captivating stories of the glory of battle were merely tales to ward off the horrors which haunted the past, and that no amount of jesting or laughter could salvage the ruins of a shattered dream.

Would that any other than Kili had suffered such a fate. Thorin would never have wished such an injury on any save Azog and his armies, but for his brash, carefree nephew to be cursed with this infirmity was an inequitable tragedy second only to death. Thorin knew how vital Kili's bow was to him. Since birth Kili had carved his own path, his rebel nature warring against him as he sought to prove himself worthy of the acceptance of his peers. Archery had given him a sense of purpose and belonging; at least within his own family. With this faculty taken away he had little else to fight for.

Fili had been right in his earlier accusation; it was unfair of Thorin to deny Kili the time to adjust to his condition. In time, however, he knew it would prove necessary. Fili would have recognized the urgency of their mission and soldiered on, fighting against his weakness until he broke free of its chains and came forth stronger in the end. Kili would only fold into himself, slowly cocooning himself in an illusion of rejection and misery until he slipped away and returned home to the Blue Mountain, a shadow of his former self.

Fili could have cajoled his brother from his state of despondency had Thorin waited long enough, but they could not hold off for days on end while Kili moped. It was better that he was on his feet with some semblance of purpose, willing to be guided if someone would show him the way.

* * *

Evening was drawing close when they camped for the night, tendrils of shadow creeping over the grass like a thousand spidery fingers. Kili, too agitated to rest, awkwardly adjusted his sword belt to allow him to draw with his left hand. He aimed his most lethal glower towards those who stared, despising the pity in their eyes. Why could they not see that there was nothing wrong with him? He had merely taken an interest in training his left hand to to use a sword as Fili had suggested. Why should they look down on him as though he were a three legged dog meant to be put out of its misery?

The very thought sent a flair of injustice coursing through him and with a snarl of disgust Kili grasped a stone and flung it into the distance, infuriated when it sharply curved and flopped against the grass only a few feet away. Cursing the aim of his left arm he hefted another stone after the first, shouting in frustration when it took an equally contemptible path of flight. A thrush was startled out of its nest by the noise, and Kili was about to lobe his third rock at it when another hand snatched his own back.

"Kili."

One word Fili spoke, and yet in his brother's voice Kili could interpret a thousand implications. His firm, calm order veiled an underlying compassion and the urge to protect, yet at the same time Fili was holding back as though he was uncertain how to handle this new Kili; as though his brother was a thin sheet of ice and the slightest touch would shatter him.

Furiously Kili tore away from Fili's grip, flinging the rock wide and and slamming his foot into the dust when his projectile soared straight up into the air and plopped to the ground a short distance away.

"Kili, it's - "

"Do not speak to me right now, Fili!" Kili barked, swerving away and taking care to stamp hard with every stride.

He regretted the harsh rebuffal instantly, knowing he had no cause to lash out at his brother. Fili did not deserve his anger; he had stood by Kili through his pain and his distress these past two days, and still he carried the burden of his brother's temper. Kili winced in guilt, hesitating a moment at the sudden impulse to run back to his brother an apologize for his selfish words.

Even so the flood of bitterness refused to relinquish its hold, and his pace quickened as the fiery indignation returned. When would they realize there was nothing wrong with him? His hand was perfectly fine! It was just a nasty splinter, or a blister, or perhaps even a bee sting. Give it a day or two and he would be fine. In fact, Kili looked forward to the moment he could laugh in his brother's face as he launched arrow after arrow into their prospective targe -

His strides faltered and ceased altogether as Kili remembered he had no bow to practice with. That filthy orc had smashed when he -

No. No, he refused to think about it. That ... that - nightmare which did not even register in his mind - had never happened. His hand was fine. _He _was fine. His hand was severely bruised, that was all; it would go away in a day or two. Best not to use his right hand until it was fully healed, though. After all, it would do little good to cause any further damage.

Caught up in this stream of denial, Kili did not realize he was approaching the fire pit until he was standing before it. His gaze rivetted on the dying red coals, garnet jewels snapping and hissing with rapacious hunger as tongues of flame lapped greedily at the handful of dried twigs Bifur had tossed in to coax them to life.

Kili's mouth went dry, his hands becoming icy cold and clammy as he ghosted a fingertip over the crooked appendage he had wrapped hastily and concealed from sight. As though in a fog he heard Fili call out his name, but the fire was all consuming and with barely a struggle he was enveloped in its voracious hold.

_Kili sighed disheartenly, watching clumps of snow drift from the sky and coat the mountains with a pristine blanket of crystal. Involuntarily he shivered, pressing his bare feet together and huddling against the doorpost. He blew his air out in a sharp burst, tilting his head in intrigue at the cloud of frost that dissipated into tiny ice particles. Soon enough Kili's interest waned and he gloomily resumed his vigil._

"_Kili, shut that door this instant before you catch your death of cold!" _

_Tsking at her youngest's carelessness Dis led Kili away from the door, shutting it behind her before guiding her wayward son to the hearth. She chided gently upon seeing his blue feet and hands, taking a moment to rub the warmth back into them before fetching the quilt Kili had discarded earlier. _

_Kili despised those blankets, though he never would go so far as to admit it aloud. The fabric was a ramble of vivid colors and unsynchronized designs, for Dis hated the dreary winters of the Mountains and consoled herself with all manner of clothing, coverlets and tapestries sewed from brilliantly dyed cloth. Kili was always being bundled into one of her quilts like a lost kitten, wrapped so tightly from head to toe that he could not so much as scratch his nose. Mummy always seemed terrified that he was going to catch "numa-nomia," even when Kili felt perfectly fine. It wasn't fair that Fili had to start sneezing until he was blue in the face before he got any "special treatment." Kili was rather jealous._

"_Mummy, is it gonna stop snowing soon?" Kili pouted, snuggling instinctively into the warmth as Dis draped the last fold of the detested blanket over his head. _

"_It is the beginning of winter," Dis reminded him with a tender smile. "The snow will be here for a long while yet. I thought you enjoyed winter, Kili."_

_Kili frowned and tucked his chin against his knees. He did like winter very much: there were icicle daggers for sword fights with Fili, the first broken "blade" signaling the loser; snowball wars with Uncle Thorin (he was a very good shot, so Kili always made sure and got him on his team when playing against Fili); annoyed neighbors who walked under the eaves of a building just in time for Kili and Fili to shout and make the snow crash down on their heads; and, of course, Balin's stories by the fire whenever he came to visit. _

"_I like it," Kili finally said in response to his mother's question, "But I can't go outside when it's snowing." He glanced at his bow gathering dust against the wall and complained, "How am I supposed to practice?"_

_Dis patted his shoulder before returning to her previous task of preparing supper, pointing out gently, "You cannot practice further until that arm of yours heals; why not relax and have a little fun?"_

"_Uncle Thorin said it'd be better by the time the snow was gone," Kili moaned, "But the snow's gonna be a long time yet, and I have to practice every day! What if I get so bad that I can't shoot anymore, and then I won't be good at it anymore and Fili will get tired of me and he'll find someone else to practice with?"_

"_Mercy, child, is that what you have been worried about this whole time?" Dis clacked her tongue in sympathy, waving the soupspoon in Kili's direction as she emphasized, "Your brother's attention is not dependant on your skills, Kili. He cares about you because you are his little brother, and he needs no more reason than that. Would you still love Fili even if he broke his leg and could not help you with your sword lessons for a year?"_

_Kili's brow furrowed in befuddlement and he was quick to answer, "'Course I would."_

"_Fili thinks no differently of you," Dis concluded. "Archery and swordplay are mere trifles; what only matters is that you are there for one another. That you __**care**__ how the other feels." Under her breath she added, "Which is a great deal more than your father and I could have claimed."_

_Kili did not notice her reminiscents of derision, for at that moment the door whooshed open in a swirl of wind and snow. Resembling a miniature troll under layers of fur and leather, Fili stamped his snow encrusted boots on the floor and slammed the door behind him. Frost had settled in a thick layer on his eyebrows and short beard, reminding Kili of the snow people he and Fili had crafted a few weeks before._

_"Fili!" Kili's eyes lit up and with an effort he wriggled his free of his bindings, jumping to his feet only to tumble to the floor as the blanket entangled his legs. He fell with an 'Oof!' on his broken arm, pain spiralling like the wizard's fireworks through his head._

_"Kili, be care - "_

_"Easy now," Fili spoke at the same time, darting forward and taking Kili's unhurt arm, assisting him to a seated position. "You all right?"_

_Dazed but unharmed, Kili was too busy shaking stars out of his eyes to respond. Recognizing from experience that his brother would be fine, Fili smirked and teased, "You'd better not have busted it again, Kili. No way am I going to muck out the stables alone for the rest of the winter. I swear you did this on purpose just to avoid doing your chores."_

_"Yuck!" Kili scrunched up his nose at the thought of carting out smelly loads of soiled hay. "At least you get to work with Uncle Thorin when you're done, though."_

_"Oh, so you think I like wading through knee deep snow every time I go to the forge?" Fili shivered violently and shuffled closer to the fire, shedding his soggy coat and mitts where they were due to be mopped up by a miffed D_i_s later._

_"But you said you like the forge," Kili pointed out, scooting closer to the flaring embers until Fili snagged his collar and pulled him several feet back. _

_"Only because it's always warm in there," Fili snorted, blowing into his hands and wrapping them eagerly around a steaming mug of soup that D_i_s pressed into them._

_Kili grabbed his own cooler mug, set aside some time ago so that he would not burn his tongue, and took a too-deep gulp that slopped the contents over the brim and left a russet smear on the end of his nose. Scrubbing it away with his left sleeve only caused him to accidentally tilt the cup on its side, and he shouted in disappointment when his supper sloshed onto the floor. D_i_s was instantly there with a rag and a fresh mug, already having anticipated her son's klutzy tendencies after a previous series of unfortunate mishaps._

_"I hate broken arms!" Kili griped, scratching inneccessantly at the bandages holding the limb immobile. "I can't do __**anything**__! I can't even practice my bow now, Fili, and I know I'm gonna be terrible by the time I get better, and I'm __**bored**__ and there's nothing to do!"_

_Poor D_i_s had already endured two weeks of her son's restlessness, and with Fili apprenticed at the forge and no longer available to occupy his brother's constant battle for attention she was rightly frazzled. Kili was becoming distressed with the long days of being cooped up inside with no one but Mewy for company, and even his cat had her own brood to care for and did not see fit to entertain him. The end result was a whining and petulant Kili who would sulk in front of the fire; or strategize a poorly matched battle between twenty dwarf figurines, two orcs, a troll and a rabbit; or hound his mother's footsteps until she ordered him to go find something to do and give her a few minutes peace, whereupon the viscious cycle would begin anew._

_Fili had known his brother's boundless energy would need an outlet of some kind or other or else he would drive Mum insane, and with Uncle Thorin's help he had finally crafted what he thought would make a perfect solution._

_"I've got something for you, Kili. Something that might help pass the time."_

_Kili's head jolted up, his eyes afire with curiosity as Fili took a small bundle wrapped in oilcloth from his pocket. _

_"I made it myself," Fili said proudly as he handed it over. "You can practice using it one handed. I can even show you a few maneuvers before I leave tomorrow."_

_Kili's mouth formed a silent 'o' as he spread out the cloth to reveal a small folded blade. The handle was curved and inlaid with metal bands in a thatched pattern, and the saw edged blade smoothly opened and closed. It was not flawless; a few thin scratches in the blade and a knick in the handle demonstrated amateur craftsmanship, but to Kili it was perfect and it was beautiful and it was __**his**__ and it had been made by his bestest best older brother._

_Fili beamed as he observed Kili's reaction. He had intended to save the knife for Kili's birthday present, but when his brother's errant slip in a snow drift resulted in three weeks of indoor imprisonment Fili had rushed to finish the intricate piece. Thorin had helped him construct the frame which would allow the knife blade to fold into itself, but the rest Fili had crafted all on his own. He was proud of his work and equally pleased that his offering was held in such high esteem. It was the first piece he had felt was good enough to show his little brother, let alone present as a gift._

_"It's not a throwing knife," Fili cautioned before Kili connived any scathingly brilliant ideas of skewering rats in the stables. "And you can't whittle with it because of the blade..." _

_Fili cursed his luck as he realized he had crafted a virtually useless piece of metal to occupy Kili's interest. The tool would be valuable for his brother's practical adventures: slicing rawhide boot strings that were knotted too tight; sawing kindling for pretend "forest blazes" whenever Mummy wanted him to start the fire in the hearth; trimming a new string for his bow; or using in an emergency such as the time his pony's reins were tangled and she was nearly strangled to death._

_For this time and place, however, the knife had little means to quell Kili's boredom. Fili groaned softly and ran his fingers through his hair, berating himself for not considering the ramifications of his gift beforehand. Uncle Thorin was always telling him he needed to think before acting on a whim (that was supposed to be Kili's job, if Fili remembered his own jest correctly). He should have listened harder and applied the lesson in practical ways as he was supposed to. _

_Kili had the impression that Fili was distressed about something; he had that pinched look to his face like he was mad at himself for messing up. Kili was not sure why his brother should be upset, though. After all, he had just given him one of the bestest presents Kili had ever had. Perhaps Fili had wanted a whittling knife like the one he'd mentioned, and he was sad now because Kili had a wonderful knife and he wanted to have one, too. _

_"Don't worry, Fili," Kili comforted his brother, snuggling up to him and crooking his right arm around Fili's elbow, "Uncle Thorin will get you a nice knife, too, and then Bofur can teach you how to whittle."_

_Fili's baffled expression would have earned a laugh from Thorin, but Kili was too engrossed in his new treasure to take notice. The knife was too big to fit comfortably in his hand, but he did not care in the least. Captivated in wonder he tilted the handle to catch the glimmering light of the fire, enraptured by the flames dancing across the intricate bands of metal decorating the marvelous piece. It was curved like a bow, he realized with a grin. Fili had remembered._

_"You're the bestest brother ever!" Kili declared, hugging the knife tightly to himself and nearly squeezing Fili's shoulder from its socket in his effort to show his appreciation. _

_Fili smiled and managed to extricate his arm from his brother's tenacious hold, slinging it around Kili's shoulders and pulling him close. _

_Kili sighed in content. He was safe and warm, his tummy was full, and that awful blanket was kicked away into a corner where it would not come near his frozen toes again. Fili was back home until tomorrow and he would still love him even if Kili missed every single target for the rest of his humiliating life. Hadn't the promise to teach him to use a knife - the very first one Fili had made by his own self - been proof of that? _

_'Mummy was right,' Kili thought as his eyelids slid shut, lulled to sleep by the crackling warmth of the flames. 'Brothers don't have to be extra special; they just have to be there when you need them.'_

* * *

Kili's left hand closed around the ancient pocket blade, his fingers tracing the grooves in the mechanism as a faint smile twisted at the corner of his mouth. For a moment the embers of hope were stirred in his heart. Perhaps there was a chance he could overcome this - _temporary hindrance - _and begin anew. Fili had always stood by him no matter how dark the circumstances, and Kili entertained the certainty that his big brother could guide him to a sense of purpose once more. Surely Uncle Thorin would be proud if he could prove that he was as good an heir one handed as he was wholly intact. Perhaps -

_**No**_. There was no _perhaps_. There could be no high and mighty, desperately empty visions of overwhelming orc hoards with his sword and his courage alone. His hand _would_ recover; it _had_ to! Kili could not imagine the alternative. There was no other path.

"Kili. Come away from there."

Fili's gentle voice, calm and soothing as though he were coaxing a wounded animal, broke through Kili's daze like a clear, ringing note on a still morning. The embers in the fire pit hissed and popped, and with an effort Kili tore his eyes away.

Dwalin was staring at him in dubious concern, as though he wondered if he should help the younger dwarf but was uncertain how to handle the situation. Kili wanted to yell at him, to glower until Dwalin averted his gaze, to do _something_ to be rid of the awkward hush that had permeated the camp.

A sudden tiredness robbed him of his desire to fight, however, and without a word he allowed Fili to lead him away. His eyes downcast and his shoulders slumped, Kili fell back against a boulder and avoided his brother's worried gaze.

He wished that Fili would shout at him for being a sullen, insolent brat, or accuse him of acting like a petulant child, or lecture him for allowing his emotions to control him when there was so much more at stake. Anything would have been preferred to his brother's considerate silence.

Guilt gnawed at Kili, for he knew that Fili had also been hurt and yet he continued on, a determined warrior whom Thorin would be proud to call his heir. Kili should be acting in an equal manner; soldiering on despite his wounds and never stopping until death itself stole away his capability to fight. A true warrior would never be overwhelmed by such a paltry injury; who was he to call himself a son of Durin if he could be so easily defeated?

"_Loyalty, honor and a willing heart." _Was that not what Thorin had desired from each of them? Kili had offered him none. He had thought he understood the gravity of his Uncle's quest, yet he been oblivous to its deeper meaning. Thorin had trusted Kili to stand by him no matter what perils they faced, and he had failed.

He had to make it up somehow; to affirm that he could be crushed, but not broken; to demonstrate that he was a valued member of the company for more than his bow; to prove that he, too, had sworn his allegience to Thorin whether through triumph or despair, whether impaired or whole.

Touching his fingers to the folded blade, Kili silently renewed his oath: to follow his King to the end, no matter the cost. To fight alongside his kin to the death if need be, with the true sacrifice of loyalty, honor, and a willing heart.

* * *

**The folding knife from the memory scene was based on a sketched template for Kili's pocket knife. The picture can be found on Kili's profile on facebook. Sadly the fanfiction site would not allow me to add the link.**

* * *

**The muse thanks everyone for their wonderful reviews! It is very happy for the feedback!**

**The muse would also like to humbly mention that its tummy is rumbling, and it is feeling very sad because only one person offered it food for the last chapter. :( **

**Aww, poor muse. **

**Those who donate sandwiches, frosted sugar cookies, hot cocoa with whipped cream and sprinkled with peppermint coffee, Chinese food, cookies, mangos, pizza, ice cream, regular hot chocolate, grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, salami, apples, garden salad (and headphone wires to gnaw), triple chocolate cookies, chocolate chip cookies, ale (...donated by Fili ...), white-chocolate-macadamia-nut cookies, candy mountains, an entire roasted turkey, legendary cinnamon and Nuttella cakes, potato soup, roasted marshmallows, more sweets (including those stolen from Fili and Kili), macaroni and cheese, roasted meat, two scoops of coffee ice cream in a chocolate dipped waffle cone, frappuccinos, bags of choclate chips (one of the muse's personal favorites as it does not have to pick them individually from each cookie now), mocha frappuccinos, key-lime pie (which the muse **_**would**_** have enjoyed had it been offered by the reviewer who ate said pie...), crumb cake, vannila bean latte and a chocolate scone, iced mochas, assorted sweets and chocolates, 8 frappuccinos (from Kili this time...), and of course food, food and even **_**more**_** food ... (gasps for breath)...those who donate any kind of food whatsoever should be assured that they are very important in the muse's humdrum life. **

**(Afternote: The author has reviewed this list and wondered why the muse is still a scrawny little rabid monster. Hm, perhaps because it thrives on coffee it runs off all the carbs in its hyperactive fits.)**

**Many thanks to those who have reviewed! Your encouragement keeps me writing and the muse inspiring.**


	7. Always

_FOR YOUR CANDLE'S QUITE LOW,_

_WE'VE BEEN WATCHING IT BURN!_

* * *

Evening had long since deepened into midnight, the thunder of Bombur's snores and the mournful howls of a lone wolf dying away until only the whispering of the breeze through tall grass and the soft chirruping of crickets could be heard above the soft _thunk_ of metal against wood.

Fili tapped his fingers against the handle of his axe, fidgetting heel to toe as the night wore on. He tried to ignore the _swish_ of slicing grass as a shining blade flashed past his heel, wincing and pointedly _not_ taking notice when Kili stomped past him in frustration.

"Too far left this time," his brother muttered heatedly under his breath as he swiped a throwing knife off the ground. "I _will _get it!"

"You should be resting," Fili prompted. "I can take this watch, Kili."

He ignored the scathing glower shot in his direction before Kili stalked off. Fili sighed heavily and resumed his pretense of keeping guard. His concentration was centered not on his surroundings, however, but the dull thuds and pings of Kili's knives striking against rock, bush, branch, and every so often their proposed target. Little brother could be as stubborn as those blasted trees he scurried up whenever he had half the chance, and for Fili to say he was worried was an understatement.

"Two days," he murmured, glancing back with compassion as Kili flung another dagger at a tree standing three feet away, only to have it arch to the left and sink into the ground. "Do you never sleep, brother?"

Sensing that he was being watched, Kili sent a baleful look in Fili's direction before retrieving the dagger, whipping it about for another try. His shoulders were slumped with exhaustion and his face drawn with the strain of defeat as he returned to his previous stance. He carefully took aim, gauging the angle between his left hand and the tree, and with cautious precision he let fly the dagger. This time there was a _thump_ as the blade drove several inches into the wood, and silently Fili cheered for his brother.

"I can't sleep much," Kili shrugged as though guessing Fili's unspoken thoughts. "Thought I may as well practice."

"Your aim is improving," Fili encouraged, appraising the numerous scuffs in the bark where Kili's knives had hit their mark.

Kili sighed heavily, wearily wiping the dirt and tree sap off his knife before returning it to its sheath. "Not enough."

As much as Fili knew he should appreciate his brother's change in attitude over the past two days, he was concerned that _improvement_ was swiftly turning into _obsession_. He knew that visions of the orc skirmish plagued his brother's dreams, and sleep was as now much a curse as the lack thereof, but fatigue was draining Kili's strength and Fili was not the only one who feared the outcome should his brother be caught off guard during battle. Oin had offered a variation of sleep remedies, but Kili proclaimed after the first night that the medicines only clouded his mind and he refused to take any more.

Thorin should have badgered him to accept the medicines nonetheless, as Kili would fare worse in the brutal manner he was pushing himself past his limits, but their uncle had remained callously silent and Fili could no longer tell whether the source was disapproval, guilt or the stoic acceptance that nothing more could be done.

"It's only been two days," Fili chanted softly to himself, a litany which had developed over twenty hours of watching his brother drive himself to madness fighting for a lost skill. "He'll exhaust himself in time and everything will return to normal."

As though some hidden sorcery in the repetitive words had delved into Kili's subconsciousness, the younger dwarf trudged over and slumped against the tree Fili was standing beside. His eyelids slid shut for a moment before he shook himself awake, blinking sluggishly against tiredness and wincing in aggravation as he rubbed at his right hand.

"You all right?" Fili asked automatically, and then kicked himself for the blatancy of his question.

Kili paid no notice to his brother's lack of tact, merely rubbing tiredly at his eyes and wiping a hand across his face. "Hurts."

"Oin could give you something for the pain," Fili advised, the only form of consolence he could think to offer.

Kili shook his head, thrusting his hand under his jacket and out of his own line of sight. "Don't want anyone poking at it."

Fili nodded once in acceptance, falling into an awkward silence. For a few minutes only the harsh scraw of a raven dissrupted the night. Finally Kili spoke, absently withdrawing his right hand and fingering the scar tissue; a recent habit that showed whenever he was upset.

"Gandalf told me about one of the Elves of old," he mentioned softly, fiddling with his two foremost fingers and forcing them to bend the fraction the scars would allow. "Maedhros One-Handed." He smirked bitterly. "An Elf; Uncle would be proud to hear of that tale."

"Forget the Elf," Fili urged, nudging Kili's shoulder with his knee. The last thing his brother needed was to condemn himself for being compared to the 'unforgiveable race.' "What did Gandalf say?"

Kili breathed deeply, grabbing a twig and flinging it into the distance. "Maedhros' right hand was severed when he was rescued from Morgoth's captivity; legends say he became one of the greatest left handed fighters in Middle Earth."

He picked at the dead tissue encompassing his fingers, flicking off shreds until he struck blood and Fili snatched his hand away. Kili, too tired to be properly infuriated at his brother's interference, rested his head against the tree behind him and languidly closed his eyes.

"D'you think I'll ever be as good as that?" he murmured, his words slurred as his eyes began to close.

Fili allowed a crooked, sorrowfully grin, hasty to assure, "Even better; you will be the finest warrior Middle Earth has ever known."

Kili smiled slightly, sleep encompassing him without a fight. "'N Uncle'll be proud?"

Fili could not look at his brother, so turbulent were the emotions that caught him off guard as he whispered huskily, "Always."

* * *

Rest would not come to Thorin this night. It had often evaded him since the battle for Moria, after which images of his grandfather's death and the sneer of the Pale Orc left him grappling for his sword and scouring the darkness for an unseen enemy. His dreams were consumed with remnants of the battle; of strategies which should have played out, others that should have been discarded, and the knowledge that the attempt in itself had been futility. Nearly a century had passed since the battle had taken place, and still he warred within his own mind.

Since the confrontation with Azog his thoughts had taken a personal edge. Had he not allowed himself to be goaded by the enemy, could they all have escaped the conflict unscathed? Thorin had known they would not survive by cowering in a collapsing tree, however, if he had ordered a final attack, ensuring they died as warriors instead of falling to their deaths, would the tides of battle have turned in their favor?

If he had ordered Kili to remain home instead, he wondered if his nephew would have listened or in an act of reckless loyalty followed after them. Perhaps he never would have faced the dire possibility that he would live out the remainder of his life as a cripple.

Such unshakable doubts found Thorin wandering late at night, stepping gingerly around the snoring lumps surrounding the campfire and seeking a form of solitude in which to sort through his thoughts. Ori started as Thorin passed him, gasping in alarm before apologizing profusely for disturbing his leader's train of thought. Glancing back over his shoulder where a series of _thunks_ cut through the stillness, the youngest of the company pleaded in a loud hiss,

"Could - could you tell them to _keep it down_? I can't sleep with all that noise!"

Bemused and slightly curious himself as to the source of the commotion, Thorin nodded solemnly to placate Ori's complaints and strode towards the copse of trees.

Muted voices reached his ears as he drew closer. Intrigued now, Thorin halted behind a large fir and turned his head to the right to catch the snatches of conversation. He was surprised to hear the soft murmurs of his nephews. Fili he might have expected, as the elder dwarf had begun taking exta watches to 'keep an eye on his brother' and already it was deemed predictable for him to stand through the long, cold nights as Kili relentlessly wore himself out flipping knives and daggers in every catasrophic direction.

The voice Thorin had not anticipated was his youngest nephew, for even grouching had seemed beyond Kili's capability to vocalize as of late.

No one had been more surprised than Thorin when Kili's initial melancholy had sheared away after the first day of silence. With scarcely a nudge from his brother he had scrambled to his feet, features set and eyes grim with the fervency of one who knew that they stared into the face of defeat and yet fought on until death marked its claim. It was an expression Thorin knew well, and one that haunted his nights in the eyes of thousands of warriors marching to their end. He knew Kili would have to break free of his passive state soon, but he had never desired this; not a calloused, silent soldier he did not recognize as his own nephew.

After two days of chilling silence it was a relief for Thorin to hear Kili speaking with his brother once more. He was not surprised that Fili would be the one to break Kili out of his stoic shield. The two brothers were closer than any siblings Thorin had known, and Kili's emphatic belief that his brother could conquer the world never ceased to astound him. Even at a young an age Kili had trusted his brother implicitely, as though nothing in the world could touch him so long as "Fiwi" was around. The memory of two brash, careless and uncannily bright child brought a touch of a smile to Thorin's expression, until his nephews' last whispered words crushed his heart in an icy fist.

"D'you think I'll ever be as good as that?"

"Even better," Fili responded softly, using the same assurances Thorin instinctively knew _he _should be passing on to Kili in this crisis. "You will be the finest warrior Middle Earth has ever known."

"'N Uncle'll be proud?"

There should have been no hesitation in Fili's response, and yet Thorin caught that moment of pause when he struggled to answer. The acknowledgement was like a physical blow; for Kili to doubt of his Uncle's approval might have been passed by as a result of his sense of insecurity, but for Fili to be loathe to grant an answer which may not be the truth...

When had he lost their trust?

* * *

_The woman was intolerable._

_ "It is harder than one would think to find a man so dedicated to his kin, you know." Bertrice sighed and sashayed closer - __**too **__close - humming softly as she gazed up at Thorin demurely. "I would wish that I could find a man such as that... Loyal ... Proud ... Majestic..."_

_ Now would be a good time for D_i_s to ask him to babysit. _

_ "Lord Thorin, you are a wise discerner of your people... I..." Bertrice chuckled in a pretense of sheepish humility, "I know I may be wishing for the Mountain itself, but should you know of any such man, you would tell me...?"_

_ Where in the blazes were Fili and Kili when he needed them?_

_ "Your sister has told you of me, I am certain. We are close friends, after all. She has often given me advice on this matter, however, I thought perhaps as our future __**king**__, you might share even greater wisdom."_

_ Those troublemakers were always interrupting him with one of their grand schemes. How dare they abandon him in this dire moment!_

_"If ever I could love a man," Beartrice carefully emphasized, "I would wish for him to show the same devotion to his children as I have seen __**my king **__display to his sister's sons."_

_At that moment Fili stalked between them in a most unprincely manner, and Thorin seized his chance. Nabbing the boy's collar he hauled him back and regarded him with a stern expression, hoping that Fili would recognize the twinkle in his eye and play along._

_"Where do you think you are going?" Thorin demanded gruffly, forcing himself to keep up the role of "annoyed uncle" despite the insane urge to forgoe his "majestic dignity" and dance around for joy at the timely interruption. He hastily rid himself of the horrid thought, shuddering as he realized his rowdy nephews appeared to be influencing his emotions a little __**too**__ much. Noticing he had only captured one of the miniature tyrants, he glanced around and questioned, "Where is your brother?"_

_Fili kicked sullenly at a large clod of dirt, wrinkling his nose in satisfaction when dust clouded the air and set Beartrice coughing. "Me an' Kili aren't talking," he stated emphatically._

_The fates were determined to ruin him. Clearly D_i_s was fed up with her sons bickering and had sent them out for "dear brother" to deal with. Now he had a petulant woman and a pair of quibbling rascals on his hands, and one of them was missing. Again._

_Rubbing the bridge of his nose against a forming headache Thorin punctuated, "Fili, where is your brother?"_

_"I dunno," Fili grumbled, crossing his arms and searing an innocent beetle with his gaze. _

_Ambushing a goblin fortress with thirteen warriors would have been easier than weaseling an admission from his eldest nephew. "What is your quarrel this time?"_

_"He stepped on my orc an' he broke it!" Fili shouted in frustration. "It was my orc an' I wanted ta play with it, but Kili stole it an' I told him ta give it back, and then he threw it on the ground an' he stomped on it like this!" he stamped his foot in demonstration, then returned to sulking. "So now I'm not talkin' to him an' he's not talkin' ta me. Mum said we had ta talk to you about it now cause you're home and she doesn't want ta deal with it."_

_This was D_i_s' vengeance for the time he "accidentally" tore the head off her doll; Thorin knew it __**must **__be. Blinding agony, that was what this headache was swiftly turning into. Where was Beartrice when he needed a fellow conspirator to aid him in his escape?_

_With a heavy, long suffering sigh Thorin curtly inquired, "Fili, is your brother at home?"_

_He shrugged noncomittally. "Dunno."_

_"Find him."_

_"But Mum said we should play sep-arate-te-tely for a while!"_

_"I did __not__ ask you to disobey your mother's orders," Thorin interjected. "I merely told you to find your brother. Now, where is he?"_

_"I don't know!" Fili said in exhasperation. "He ran off an' then - "_

_An ear piercing scream shattered the air at that moment, Kili's voice stricken with such raw terror that chills ran down Thorin's spine. _

_"Fiiiiiiiwi! Fiiiiiwiiiiiiii!"_

_Beartrice clapped her hands to her mouth and froze, but Thorin did not hesitate as he broke into a run. Pattering footsteps behind him indicated that Fili was not far behind. Thorin would later wonder that the child had moved with such speed for his short stride, but for now Kili's terrified screams continued to urge him on as visions of rabid dogs, scavenging goblins or worse filled his thoughts. _

_"Mister Fili's Uncle! He's over here!"_

_Jhoachim, one of Fili's playmates, panted for breath from his short run and hurriedly pointed Thorin to a tall ash sapling. Clinging upside down to a high branch, his arms and legs wrapped around the limb like a rumpled, overgrown squirrel, was his youngest nephew. Kili's face was blue from screaming and it did not appear he was close to losing his voice yet, as he drew in breath for another piercing wail as Bofur hopelessly strove to calm him down._

_"Now, now, ye're all right," Bofur called over the ruckus . "Jhoachim's brought yer Uncle, just as 'e said 'e would."_

_"Fiwiiii!" Kili screeched in response, his eyes screwed tight shut against the tears that leaked out._

_"How did he manage to get up there?" Thorin queried in perplexion as he eyed the straight, smooth bark of the limber tree. The lowest branch was a good fourteen feet above the ground. Surely there was a limit to accomplishing the impossible, even for Kili._

_"I don't know 'ow 'e made it," Bofur shrugged, scrutinizing the scuffed bark with admiration. "Jhoachim 'eard 'im screaming and we've been tryin' to get 'im down since. Bit tall for it, though, Jhoachim is. Surprised that branch 'asn't broken under yer nephew's weight yet."_

_"I want Fiwi!" Kili wailed, oblivious to the fact that his brother stood mere feet below him._

_"I'm right here," Fili spoke up, taking a few steps closer. He looked torn between annoyance and concern, fidgetting anxiously as he looked between his brother and Thorin as thought to say 'Well? Do something!'_

_Kili peeked cautiously from one eye, his face lighting up when he saw his brother. "Fiwi! I's stuck and I can'd ged down!"_

_Fili shook his head, alarm warring with skeptism in his features. "How'd you climb up in the first place?"_

_Kili opened his mouth and then clamped it shut with a brief look of confusion, his tiny brow furrowing like a worried pup. "I's stuck!" he finally pleaded, as though two small words would explain the magnitude of his predicament._

_"He would choose a tree spindly enough no one could climb after him," Thorin muttered. Sometimes he wondered if his nephews delighted in creating new and inventive methods to terrorize his day._

_"Fili, why don't yeh go and find Malan," Bofur suggested benignly. "'e's small enough 'e should be able to git up thar without a problem."_

_"No!" Kili screeched, losing his grip momentarily and nearly causing Thorin to have a heart attack when the youngster almost fell. "Fiwi, don't go! I - I'sorry I broked your orc, I weally is! And I'sorry I mades Unca Thorin mad an' that Mummy is mad an' now you's mad but I'll be goods, Fiwi, I pwomise! Just don't weave me here, Fiwi! I - I'scared!"_

_The final admission was accompanied by two fat tears trickling down Kili's cheeks. Fili's expression crumbled and he helplessly flexed his hands. He stared up the giant trunk of the ash and gupled convulsively before his features set and he took two shaky steps forward._

_"It's okay, Kili, I'm comin' ta get you." Wrapping his arms legs around the tree Fili slowly wormed his way up, not daring to look below him at the ground spinning "hundreds of feet" below._

_"Easy now," Thorin called, his alarm doubling now that __**both**__ his sister's sons were stuck in a tree. D_i_s would have a conniption if she ever learned what he had permitted her eldest to attempt. Hovering under the limb where Kili was stranded, Thorin flinched every time Fili slipped, not trusting that Bofur would catch his nephew should he fall._

_Centuries must have passed before Fili wriggled onto the lowest branch where Kili was, sliding cautiously forward and tapping his brother's wrist._

_"Um... Kili - "_

_Before he could describe a plan of action for his brother to relinquish his death grip on the limb, Kili had slithered into his arms and latched onto him like a fuzzy serpent. The child tucked his face into Fili's neck and instantly relaxed, safely hidden away from the dangers of tall places and people with funny hats who lied that heights were nothing to be scared of._

_"Fiwi?"_

_"What is it, Kili?" Fili responded patiently._

_"I wanna hat like Bofo's."_

_Fili knew he was being very kind not to be angry with his brother right now, even if he just knew Kili was going to get himself killed before his seventh summer. "I'm goin' down now, Kili. Don't let go."_

_"'Kay, Fiwi."_

_Ever trusting that big brother could fix anything in the world, Kili did not flinch as Fili gingerly inched his way down the trunk._

_"Fiwi?"_

_Fili grunted in response, too caught up in the exertion of maintaining his grip on the slick bark to reply._

_"I'sorry I broked it."_

_Fili paused for a moment, considering his brother's wrong-doing and deciding he was not that mad after all. "I forgive you, Kili," he promised._

_"Fiwi?"_

_This time he did roll his eyes. "What, Kili?"_

_"Love you."_

_Fili smiled, resisting the urge to ruffle his brother's hair only because he needed both arms to hang on. "Love you too, twerp."_

_"Fiwi?"_

_Thorin was getting impatient below, and if Kili kept asking him questions Fili knew he would never get down. "Yeah, Kili?"_

_"D'you think Unca Thorn'll be prouded cause you save-ded me?"_

_To be honest Fili had not considered the possibility; he had been too distraught with the thought of what should happen if Kili were to fall. "I dunno. Maybe."_

_"If I says I went up dere to save a baby squirrel... d'you think he'll be prouded of me, too?"_

_A _squirrel_. That was the dire mission that ended with Kili being stranded in a tree. One of these days Fili would have to tie his baby brother to the table just to make sure he didn't kill himself saving a baby warg._

_"Um, I don't think Uncle likes squirrels," Fili invented an excuse on the spot. "An' he wouldn't wanna hear about it after this." _

_Kili considered this a moment, and then piped up with yet another brilliant thought. "Fiwi?"_

_"Not yet," Fili broke in. "Wait 'til we get down."_

_Ignoring Kili's pouts Fili squirmed down the last couple feet until he could slide into Thorin's waiting arms. He wanted to kiss the ground as soon as he touched solid earth, but of course that would be childish and even if Jhoachim would be nice enough to pay no mind, Malan would certainly laugh if he ever heard of it._

_Thorin ensured Kili was safe first, giving him a swat on the rear for misbehaving before making him promise (again) not to climb any more trees __**or**__ saplings __**or**__ birches __**or**__ whatever clever title his nephew learned to associate with "that thing he knew he wasn't supposed to climb since he could hurt himself and besides he was too scared to get down from it when he was supposed to."_

_Turning to Fili, Thorin bent to one knee and placed his hands on his eldest nephew's shoulders. "I know heights daunt you," he said, a note of pride in his voice, "Yet you did not allow that to stop you. Your courage was more than I could ask for, Fili."_

_Fili beamed, grinning down at his brother and deciding that maybe the broken toy had not been important after all. Not to be outdone, Kili darted in front of him and presented his own accomplishment to Thorin._

_"I save-ded a squirrel!" Kili gushed happily, holding up a small ball of fur and waiting for his uncle's words of praise._

_Thorin pressed a hand to his forehead against the __**definite**__ headache that was plaguing him. If D_i_s did not have sharp words waiting for her youngest, he was certain to deliver a lecture to that cheeky little tyrant for giving him such a fright._

* * *

So many times Kili had looked to him for approval, only to turn away in dejection when none was offered. Too often in Thorin's eyes his nephew's mistakes had overshadowed his accomplishments, the consequences of possible failure too dire for him to recognize that all Kili longed for was to know he was accepted and needed by those he cared about.

Now he could not flaunt the nagging doubt that he was too late; that any show of praise would be taken as "pity to comfort the useless." He wished that he had taken greater care to note Kili's efforts before, but the time had never seemed right. For Fili there was always a chance; his eldest nephew was obedient to a fault, and there was always reason to acknowledge his achievements. Kili had to be kept under an iron hand, chided and disciplined until his rebellion was curbed and he learned a fraction of his brother's common sense. Now Thorin realized that in his blindness he had only crushed the embers of a young man's spirit, and he wondered if the damage could ever be undone.

_"N Uncle'll be proud?"_

How much more valued would the assurance have been had he been the one to answer his nephew's tremulous question?

_**Always**__._

* * *

**The muse is skittering around in hyperactive bliss as it dashes through empty bags of chocolate chips, platters of homeade pie, Fili's chocolate chips (stolen by Kili on this particular occasion), pizzas, cannolis, boxes of dried fruits, chocolate, various cheeses, meats, chips, crisps, cereals, a lifetime supply of Swiss chocolate, creme brûlée, double fudge brownie with whipped cream, birthday cupcakes (Happy Birthday People-Person-I'm-Not), white and dark chocolate chips, vanilla and chocolate frosting (a little sticky - stay off the keyboard, muse!), chocolate covered almonds, powdered doughnuts, oatmeal, and cliff bar wrappers. **

**To preserve the computer the author would not allow the muse to swim in tanker lorries of cream, lemonade, cappuchinos, and soup, but the offerings are appreciated with as much enthusiasm as the little tornado can muster. ;)**

******Tragically this chapter is late, as the muse and I have been distracted with building up our army in The Hobbit: Armies of the Third Age. (Curse the advertisements for looking so epic!) We are trying to get our heads back in gear so that this story can be finished before the muse kills itself taking on an entire Orc fortress. ;)**

**The muse and the author offer their many thanks for all the reviews! (And food, as the muse would like to add.)**


	8. Blessing

_DO YOU LIE HERE AWAKE,_

_AS THE SHADOWS LOOK ON?_

* * *

"Raise your sword, Kili; this isn't a dance."

From his vantage point on a higher ridge Thorin could observe his nephews practicing below. Fili skittered around, occasionally limping from the lingering pain of his wound and bantering all the while to keep up Kili's spirit as the younger struggled. Although Kili had improved significantly over the course of several days, his left handed grip remained awkward and his movement was clumsy compared to his previous grace. His temper was short and his impatience, which had him constantly on edge before, was now intollerable.

Nine days had passed since the ambush. Kili had thrown himself into Fili's teachings, training his left arm to possess the strength and agility required for single-handed combat. His stride had lost its slump of defeat, a renowned sense of regality and valor presented in his somber, resolute gait.

To those who knew little of the veil of fortitude which had passed down through the generations of Durin's line, it might have been assumed that the youngest heir had accepted his lot in life, pushing past the despair which would have crumbled any other dwarf with a confidence born only of the deepest inner strength.

Kili was an accomplished liar, but he could not fool his own kin.

It was no difficult matter for Thorin to recognize the broken reflection concealing his nephew's inner quailing. Nights for Kili were passed in restless agitation: if he was not lobbing a rock at an unseen target or brandishing his sword in a series of uncoordinated maneuvers, he was curled up at the outskirts of the camp, a blanket drawn tightly around his tense shoulders and both hands tucked securely under his arms. He no longer slept with his back to the fire, and long into the night he stared into the flames, his eyes dark and haunted as sleep evaded his grasp.

No longer was there even a hint of a smile at Fili's halfhearted jibes. It was as though Kili had locked himself away, hiding behind a soldier's facade while a child quivered in the darkness. He was trying desperately to prove himself - Thorin had never doubted this - but the manner in which Kili had chosen to fight this battle was only tearing him apart. He was born to live; to merely survive would only prove more tortuous than the wound he suffered.

"He is stronger than he appears," Gandalf's voice broke through the stillness as the wizard drew up behind Thorin. "Do not give up hope, Thorin. He will show himself worthy of his descent ere the end."

"I never asked for him to prove anything," Thorin responded bleakly. "He should not be forced to endure this."

Gandalf nodded solemnly, his gaze distant and forlorn. "There are destinies which we cannot understand, nor can we evade," he said darkly. "Some paths are meant to be trod, and even I cannot comprehend their final purpose."

"Is there nothing you can do?" Thorin pleaded quietly, already knowing the answer.

Gandalf's voice was soft; regretful. "If there was another way, I would have done everything in my ability to bring it to pass. Alas," he shook his head in sorrow, "There are some Fates which cannot be apprehended."

"Then there is no hope left for him," Thorin accepted in a dull tone.

Gandalf scrutinized him with an unreadable expression. "There is always hope, Thorin Oakenshield. Often it is revealed in a form we do not... expect." He took a long draw on his pipe, caught in a labyrinth of his own thoughts.

"What of the next part of our journey?" Thorin inquired, turning to focus on the combat below.

Kili had apparently given up in disgust and he irritably waved Fili away, slouching against a tree and slashing a whetstone against his sword. The boy would ruin his blade if he continued in such an agitated manner.

"I believe it wise to give Beorn warning ahead of time." Gandalf cleared his throat in slight humor at his personal joke. "Fili and Kili will accompany me; the rest will wait approximately half an hour and then follow in pairs, five minutes in between."

Thorin regarded him dubiously. "I expect there is a particular reason behind this arrangement?"

"Five minutes will be time enough for me to introduce them properly," Gandalf responded frankly. "At the same time it will allow us to refrain from over-lording Beorn's hospitality

"Why not send the hobbit first?" Thorin retorted cynically. "In spite of his courage he remains a blundering fool; he would be the last to appear threatening."

As he anticipated, Gandalf took several long, slow draughts of his pipe before responding. "It would be a ...wiser course... on this occasion."

"You expect him to pity my nephew." Thorin's eyes flashed with indignance as he grasped the reasoning behind the wizard's method. "Kili does not need your sympathy, Gandalf, or that of any other. He is a son of Durin, with the potential of a future king. I will not have him crippled by your _compassion._"

"Kili will never use a bow again." The blunt, cruelly driven words drove the breath from Thorin's lungs. Gandalf's statement carried the weight of his discouragement, yet it retained a dagger's edge as he continued, "What purpose could be gained in forcing him to continue on this quest, if he feels he will be no more than a burden to you? Allow him some remnant of peace after all he has sacrificed, Thorin. Let the boy return home."

It was ice and not blood that ran through his veins. Thorin had never felt such bitterness towards the wizard who had ensured their quest until this moment. "That is not your decision to make," he grated out, his gaze burning with anger. "I, for one, have not give up on Kili yet."

He turned his back to Gandalf and strode away, every fiber of his control necessary to refrain from strangling the wizard for his belligerency. Thorin cared not that Nori and Ori blanched at his approach and quietly fled the vicinity, fearing his impending wrath. It mattered little that Dwalin followed close behind him, anticipating a row and preparing to interfere.

What smote him in the end was Fili's stricken glance as he looked up from his conversation with Kili, his calm personage wavering as he instinctively bent forward to shield his brother. Thorin faltered as though he had been struck, his anger washing away in a wave of regret as he realized how hostile he must have appeared to his nephews. It was not often that he allowed his rage to overshadow them, but Fili had witnessed enough to know when to take cover against the oncoming storm.

The acknowledgement was enough to shear away Thorin's defenses and his terse posture slumped, his fury vanishing as a candle flame caught in a gust of wind. Kili continued to regard him apprehensively and Thorin forced his stern expression to relax, the effort less tasking than he had anticipated.

"I - I was only resting a moment," Kili stammered, pushing Fili's hand from his shoulder and struggling to his feet. "I'm ready to go on."

Thorin stopped his nephew midway, gently pushing him back down before lowering himself to speak to Kili at eye level. He wanted his gaze to reflect his repentance for his behavior, and his sorrow for what had befallen his nephew. He took care to ensure no pity filtered his expression, for Kili would only scorn it and delve further into his self consciousness. What Thorin wanted most of all was for the pride he felt to shine from his eyes, for no matter what failures or triumphs Kili faced he would always look to his nephew with admiration.

"It is not a matter of shame to be maimed in battle," Thorin began softly, mimicking the tone he thought D_i_s would have used had one of her sons come to her wounded.

It appeared to be effectual with Kili, as his impassive wall crumbled in an instant and he could not meet Thorin's eyes. With his left hand he began scrubbing at a smear of dirt encrusted on his sword hilt, visibly struggling for control. Though Thorin was encouraged by the baited silence, indication that Fili, too, was listening intently, he nonetheless cursed a familiar sense of awkwardness as he strove to ignore the shadows of twelve uninvited observers. At this moment Kili needed his complete honesty and undivided attention, and should he allow himself to be distracted in this moment Thorin could not expect another chance.

"I cannot begin to reccount how many returned from Erabor in worse condition than your own," Thorin continued in the same calming tone. "You have seen them yourself, Kili. Some will never walk again, others may not recover from the horror of seeing their comrades butchered before their eyes."

Kili flinched slightly and Thorin mentally admonished himself for his vivid portrayal. He could understand his nephew's reaction give his recent traumatic experience.

"Bifur was one of those wounded in the battle for Moria," Thorin indicated the older dwarf with a nod of his head. "His speech impediment has proven an encumbrance, but it has not destroyed his life."

"I'm holding you back," Kili murmured wretchedly, the truth finally spilling out as he blinked away moisture gathering in his eyes.

For a moment Thorin could not reply, his nephew's admission striking him to the heart. Was this the fear that had plagued Kili day after day: not that he would never be whole again, but that he would prove a hindrance to them all? How could he not have taken notice before now?

_By Durin, my pride will be my ruin._

Thorin forced himself to take a deep breath, quelling the tides of guilt that would have swept him away. He should have spoken to Kili of this matter long ago. "I did not ask for anyone of skill to accompany me on this quest," he responded solemnly. "I asked for your loyalty and your courage; nothing more. You have given me your all, and even that was not enough for you. Your bow means nothing to me in comparison. I was a fool to allow you to believe so."

A flicker of hope lingered in Kili's eyes and he tremulously met Thorin's gaze, his breathing quickening in rapid, tumultuous bursts as he fought for one last illusion of control.

Thorin offered a wane smile, struggling against his own turbulent emotions as he promised in all sincerity, "I have never seen you stronger, Kili ... and I have never been more proud of you than I am now."

A strangled whimper was torn from Kili throat and before Fili could move to comfort his brother Thorin's arms encircled his youngest nephew, holding him tight as nine tortuous days of pent up frustration and misery burst free. Kili hid his face in Thorin's shoulder, sobbing quietly yet with the fervency of a child, all pretense of bravery abandoned in his desperate need to be held and protected and loved. Fili was kneeling beside him in an instant, rubbing circles soothingly against Kili's back as he regarded Thorin with mingled incredulity and hope.

Words had always been D_i_s' matter of expertice. Thorin envied his sister's ability to ease her sons' hearts with but a whisper and a soft touch, but such methods had always evaded his understanding. On this occasion, however, he sensed any spoken comfort on his part would not be neccessary.

Clapping a hand to Fili's shoulder Thorin pulled him down to sit beside them, slinging one arm around his elder nephew's shoulder while continuing to hold his youngest close. Fili was caught by surprise and for a moment he froze, blinking unresponsively in shock. At length he grasped the magnitude of what had taken place and relaxed in Thorin's embrace, ruffling Kili's hair and wrapping his arm protectively around his brother's neck. Kili shifted to face his brother, ducking his head under Fili's arm and trembling as he choked back his sobs.

Balin cleared his throat noisily, casting each dwarf a knowing look and silently dispersing the crowd. Ori, oblivious to the hint, continued to gawk at the spectacle until Dwalin grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Thorin cast Balin a grateful look and nodded, relieved to have a moment's privacy in this family crisis.

It reminded him with grim irony of another day over half a century before, when the scattered remnants of their warriors had returned from the seige of Moria. It was a moment, perhaps, when he had proved a better uncle and less of a commander, and he wondered if Kili and Fili still retained any memories of that time.

* * *

"_Pappi? Pappi, where are you?"_

_Kili stood on his tiptoes and glanced about, as though at any moment his father might round the corner in answer to his call. _

"_Fiwi, where's Pappi?"_

_Fili was slouched by the cold and dead fire, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head buried in his arms. He would not even look in his brother's direction, and Kili pouted as he realized he was being ignored._

"_Fiiwiii!" he whined, stamping one small bare foot._

_No response._

_Kili tried a different tactic. "I'm hungry, Fiwi. Mummy says you can make me a snack and I wannit now."_

"_Go talk ta Uncle Thorin."_

"_He's busy an' he won't talk ta me!" Kili yowled in protest. "He says ta talk ta you cause Mummy's gone out an' now you won't talk ta me an' no one wants me awound!"_

_He plopped down beside Fili and mimicked his brother's posture, brooding as he stared at the blackened coals in the fireplace. _

"_Fiwi, I'm cold," Kili whined petulantly after a moment. He tugged at Fili's arm, begging for someone to take notice of him. _

_Fili sighed and lifted his head, using his sleeve to wipe smeared water streaks from his face as he enfolded Kili under his other arm. Kili sighed in relief and snuggled close, glad that he was no longer being ignored even if Fili was upset right now and he wasn't sure if it was his fault or not._

"_Why didn't you just get a blanket?" Fili asked in a tired voice._

"_Dunno where they are," Kili shrugged pertinently, deeming that no further explanation was required._

"_Where's Pappi?" he posed his question again._

_Fili sniffed hard, scrubbing the back of his hand across his eyes as a horrible whimper sounded in his throat. "He's not comin' back, Kili."_

_Kili's brow scrunched up in confusion, squashing down the tiny voice that told him Mummy and Uncle Thorin had said the same thing and therefore it must be true. "Yes'e is. He just went ta see the big people's shops with Mummy, an' then he'll be back an' he'll fix my toy horse like he says he's gonna."_

"_No, you don't get it," Fili insisted in a hoarse voice, shiny droplets trickling down his cheeks. "He's __**not**__ coming back. Ever. He… he got hit with an orc arrow an' now he's – he's gone!"_

_The last choked word brought on a fresh onslaught of tears and Fili hid his face in his arms, sobs wracking his shoulders even as he tried to muffle the noise. Kili stared at him incredulously and awkwardly patted his brother's shoulder like Uncle Thorin sometimes did, not sure what was happening and if he should be sad, too._

_Kili looked up and saw Thorin standing at the corner of the hall, one fist loosely braced against the woodwork as he watched Fili with a torn expression. Something really, really bad must have happened because his eyes were all red and cry-ee and he looked more tired than usual and Kili knew Fili only ever looked that way when he was under a lotta stress like he was now and Unca Thorin never ever looked that way. Ever._

"_Unca Thorin?" he called, dark eyes confused and pleading, "Fiwi won't stop cryin'."_

_The grief in his own heart was raw and knifing, and Thorin could not respond to the child's entreatment for comfort. The screams of the dying still rang in his ears though the battle had taken place what seemed like centuries before. As though the deaths of her father and grandfather were not enough, mere weeks after the slaughter Dis' husband had been claimed by a stray orc arrow. It was not Thorin's desire to be the one to deliver the news of their father's death to his young nephews, nor did he deem himself capable of handling Fili's sorrow while he, too, suffered both the weight of his family's murder along with the added responsibility of looking after the remaining survivors. _

_Kili had stubbornly deduced that if he denied the truth it would stay far away from his innocent and carefree life, and perhaps that was what caused Thorin to avoid his youngest nephew these past few days. As much as Kili's cheerfulness irked him, the child's laughter was a comfort amidst a crowd of refugees torn with bereavement and Thorin did not wish to lose that touch of normalcy. _

_He could not neglect Kili forever, though. There was no point in putting off the inevitable any longer._

_"Kili," he said reluctantly,"There is something you must know..."_

_Kili waited expectantly, his blind trust wrending Thorin's heart. With a burdened sigh he lowered himself to sit cross legged beside his nephews. Kili instantly scrambled into his lap and the child hummed quietly to himself, his only concern being that he was finally getting the attention he wanted. Fili's sobs had ceased the moment he realized Thorin had entered the room, and he now sidled under his uncle's free arm and swallowed back tears, his face screwing up despite his best effort to prove how brave he was._

_Thorin paused in thought, searching for a way to explain the death of a family member so that a child could understand. "Do you remember that dog your father gave Fili for his birthday?"_

_"Glumpy?" Kili piped up expectantly. Fili sniffed and averted his eyes to the floor, and Thorin wished he did not have to draw on a painful subject in order to explain a worse tragedy._

_"Yes," he acknowledged hesitantly. "You remember how it disappeared in the mines one day and did not return."_

_Kili nodded uncertainly, his lower lip jutting out in sadness at the thought._

_"There was an ... accident in the mines," Thorin summarized. "Something large fell on the dog ... and killed it." _

_It was not uncommon for chains to snap and a slab of rock to crash to the levels below, but the dwarves were cautious and fatalities in such hazards were rare. No one had anticipated for a dim witted mutt to scramble into peril, however, and there was no chance to avert tragedy before it was too late._

_"Glumpy... died?" Kili questioned, finally beginning to grasp the reality of what his uncle was saying._

_Thorin nodded gravely, his eyes burning as the heavy weight in his heart threatened to suffocate him. "Kili..." he struggled for words, "Your father ... cannot return. He ... he is dead."_

_The joy dropped out of Kili's eyes, dark orbs shimmering with liquid as he whispered, "Pappi died?"_

_Fili broke down at the admission, burying his face in Thorin's coat to hide the evidence of his mourning. Thorin pulled the boy into his lap and allowed him to weep, pulling Kili tightly to himself as large teardrops began to roll down the child's face. Two sparkling diamonds rolled off his own chin and onto the boys' hair, but for this once Thorin did not quell his grief. There would be time enough later to hold strong. His nephews were not meant to be miniature soldiers, and he would not deny them their tears, nor would he force himself to appear impassive at this time when they desperately needed to know they were not alone in their pain._

"_Many brave warriors were killed in our efforts to reclaim Moria," Thorin told them, relaying the first reccount of a battle he knew would be passed on through the generations. "You are not alone in your loss."_

_Fili and Kili were not the first to experience death at the hand of the enemy, nor would they be the last. Thorin determined, however, that the young princes would not be forced to endure their anguish silently for the sake of their people, nor would they be left to their own to deal with their grief - not as he had. He would carry them through the agony and the turmoil until they could stand on their own, side by side, proud heirs of Durin as they were intended to be. _

_Years into an unseen future, when his nephews were grown and mature, Thorin knew he would look back on this day and wonder what had become of his curious and belligerent Kili, and his careful but exciteable Fili who would join in the cheekiest pranks to please his little brother. Perhaps the shy and insecure youngest, shadowed in the glory of his confident older sibling, would one day grow past his uncertainty and surprass his brother. Fili, on the other hand, was already learning of the harsh requirements of a leader and Thorin sensed he would be prepared for the life of a prince long before Kili. They were the heirs of Durin; it was a matter of destiny that they fulfill their true potential. Thorin was confident that whatever crossed their path, Fili and Kili would exceed his expectations._

* * *

Perhaps he had expected too much from his nephews in the their lives Thorin had pushed Fili and Kili to strive higher; to prove themselves worthy of the respect of their people; to become who they were born to be. Not since their childhood had he taken time aside to cherish them for who they were, and not what they were destined to become.

There was Kili: bright and often obnoxiously cheerful, with a brilliant mind full of outlandish schemes and a daring persona set on conquering the whole of Middle Earth if he so desired. He could lighten Thorin's heart in the darkest hours, his unwavering faith that the impossible could be achieved if his Uncle would but guide the way rekindling the embers of hope when all seemed lost.

Fili was Thorin's strength: calm in his bearing yet retaining an inner tenacity that could put his brother to shame, he never once abandoned a cause he believed in. He knew when to fight and when to hold back, and more than once his discretion had pulled Thorin from the brink of madness when he would have sacrificed all for the sake of vengeance against those who had murdered his kin.

Fili was Kili's stronghold; his serenity when he was lost in the storm of his own emotions; his guiding light when he could not find his own way; the anchor holding him down when the flares of rebellion would have carried him far from home.

Kili in turn was Fili's other half; his motivating force when caution would have held him back; a constant reminder that life was not berefit of laughter in spite of hardship; someone to protect, to hold, to keep a promise to, to assure himself that if he had succeeded in but one thing, it was taking care of his little brother.

Thorin did not know if he could have embarked on this quest without both of his nephews by his side. They were more than his heirs; he had watched them grow, observed their struggles and their accomplishments, had encouraged or disciplined them as he saw neccessary, until they had surpassed his teachings and climbed to greater heights than he could have ever hoped.

Now, as Kili snuggled against him, his tears spent as his eyes slid shut in a peaceful slumber, Fili instinctively following suit as he responded to his brother's tranquility,Thorin yearned for the return of the dependant, endearing children he had once known.

As some point he had lost that part of himself: the part that understood there were times to scold but also opportunities to praise; to show disapproval but always to remind his nephews that he would look upon them with pride no matter what path they took.

Perhaps it was not too late to regain their trust.

Fili and Kili had both fallen asleep against him and Thorin did not have the heart to wake them. Even if to shift slightly to find a more comfortable position seemed too high of a risk. The moment was too precious to waste.

Studying the horizon Thorin estimated there would be time to reach Beorn's by nightfall if they continued on now, and he snorted sardonically at the thought. Let the night pass on; they could continue their march just as well in the morning. After all, it was rare these days for Kili to sleep untroubled, and Fili had not closed his eyes for more than an hour at a time since the night of the battle.

_They could all use the rest,_ Thorin concluded as he watched Balin shake his head fondly at the trio and then order the others to set up camp. He was content to ignore the covert glances sent his way, occasionally shooting a glare when he felt that one member of the company or another was staring too long.

When Gandalf met his eye Thorin responded with an cool, almost smug expression, daring him to accuse again that Kili was incapable of holding his own. Gandalf nodded solemnly, neither withdrawing nor establishing his past claims, his face nonetheless mirroring Thorin's relief that Kili might at last be on the mend.

Night drew on, the stars winking into existence in tiny sparkles of light, and still Fili and Kili slept. Dwalin had spread two blankets from their sparse supplies over the youngsters as the wind grew chillier. The fire blazed cheerily in the distance, but even for his own comfort Thorin would not allow one to be built nearby lest Kili awaken in a throe of terror as his nightmares sprang to life.

His nephews would be as stiff and sore as Thorin anticipated he would be the following morning. Fili's sword pommel must have been digging into his back, and Kili was certain to have a crick in his neck from the contorted manner he was curled in, yet the brothers slept as deeply as though starved for dreams that promised renewal instead of darkness. A genuine smile graced Thorin's lips, and he knew he would not begrudge them this one night of sanctuary for all the gold under the Mountain.

One day the weight of responsibility would force Kili and Fili to take up the role of the soldiers they had become. Tonight, however, they were only children cradled safely in his arms, and Thorin could ask for no greater blessing.

* * *

**The muse is staring in bewilderment at the screen, jaw dropped in a "WHAZZIT?!" expression. It appears that group hugs are beyond its tiny comprehension. Poor little thing.**

**This chapter wasn't even supposed to take place ... I think my original Muse from "I Will Protect You" stepped in again and hijacked the keyboard. It seems to be waking up early from its hibernation...**

**Please feed the Muse**_**S**_**, (as my original Muse has begun stealing the mini-muse's food as of late), and remember that a well fed muse is a happy muse, and happy muses torture Kili. ;)**


	9. Crisis

_SHOULD THEY CRY FOR YOUR SAKE?_

_SHOULD YOU SLEEP IN THEIR ARMS?_

* * *

"Remember, there is to be no mention of trappers, or furriers, or any manner of hunters whatsoever," Gandalf said brusquely as he led Fili and Kili down an unseen path through the forest. "In fact, it will be better if the both of you leave the talking to me."

Most of the wizard's cautioning went unheeded by Fili, whose sole concern was keeping Kili from meandering into the forest at the first glimpse of a lost squirrel. He blanched, however, when Gandalf looked back sharply and scrutinized them with a frown. Fili never could tell from Gandalf's expression whether he was displeased or caught up in deep concentration; in this particular case it appeared to be hapless frustration, as Gandalf sighed heavily and muttered to himself,

"Expect a dwarf to arrive at a shape-shifter's house garbed in the fur of an animal. We shall be lucky if we are not thrown out on his doorstep. I should have brought the hobbit along instead!"

The two brothers exchanged a dubious glance and Kili shrugged. Fili nabbed his brother's sleeve as Kili caught a glimpse of something interesting and began to wander from the path, ignoring the pouting glare sent his way as he pulled his brother back in line behind Gandalf. Kili offered no spoken argument, his sullen expression vanishing a moment later as he buried both hands deep in his pockets and leaned against Fili's shoulder for comfort. A smile tugged at Fili's lips and he slung his arm around Kili's neck and tugged him into a headlock, elicting a chuckle from his brother before Kili managed to squirm away.

Something had shifted in Kili's perspective since his breakdown in front of Thorin. Whereas Fili had been anxious that his brother would be further humiliated for showing weakness in front of his uncle, the encounter appeared to have done the opposite and laid his fears to rest. Though his brother was still too quiet for Fili's liking, there was an air of serenity in his silence and Fili could at least pretend that all was as it should be.

A full night's rest appeared to have done Kili a world of good. Fili himself had woken in the middle of the night, mortified when he remembered the emotional outbreak earlier and then realized he and Kili had effectively pinned Thorin in place by falling asleep against him. Thorin had waved aside his apologies with a grunt and a snort of amusement, giving Fili the impression that the earlier discussion had proved as beneficial to his Uncle as it had to Kili - who had slung himself across Thorin's lap in one of his usual contorted positions that in the past had left Fili wondering how his brother woke with a spring to his step and a brilliant smile every morning. Kili had barely stirred all night, and when morning finally arrived it had taken some effort on Fili's part to wake his brother.

_Just like old times,_ he thought. It was odd to consider the days before _the Fire _as "old times" and he hated the comparison. No matter how swiftly Kili was improving, it was not enough for Fili. He wanted his brother back; not this quiet, uncertain, eager-to-please version of Kili that reminded him sorely of their childhood years.

"I don't like bees," Kili murmured, shying nearer and drawing Fili's attention from his gloom.

Fili glanced up apprehensively, noticing that the large drones now hovered in clusters around the alcove. Hundreds of them darted in and out of small thatched buildings, the incessant humming putting his nerves on edge. Kili was nearly trodding on Fili's toes as he edged closer in his anxiety, and he rubbed aggitatedly at his ear with his good hand before pulling his hood over his face to filter out the noise.

"How much further?" he asked, the tinge of a petulant whine edging his voice seeming so _Kili_ that Fili started. His brother paid no notice, swatting absently at a large bee whizzing past his face before his eyes widened in premonition and he tucked his hand back in his pocket lest he be stung.

Gandalf visibly stiffened at the young dwarf's voice. Though Kili's initial silence had only lasted for a short period of time, he still appeared astonished that the young heir had any manner of voice left to him. It seemed to Fili as though the wizard had all but given up on Kili since that first day, and he was both agitated and perplexed that Gandalf resisted any alteration in his perspective. There was an edginess to the wizard's mannerism that Fili could not understand; as though Gandalf carried an inner foreboding that quelled all semblence of hope before it could be born.

"It is not far," Gandalf answered, glancing over his shoulder to ensure the two dwarves were yet following. "These are Beorn's bee grounds; we are close."

"Why do they not bother _him_?" Kili griped, glowering at the drones as though he could wither them with his gaze and pulling his coat tighter around him.

Fili could not help a slight grin. It had been too long since his brother had made such a fuss about anything - from the cold to the blandness of cram to how Bombur's snoring kept him awake – and it was a small comfort to know that Kili had regained a touch of his usual impertinence.

Kili caught sight of his mirth and rolled his eyes, trodding lightly on Fili's foot and grumbling, "Just wait until they mistake your hair for one of their hives and move in."

He seemed pleased with his cleverness and began humming an off key tune, before something rattled in the trees overhead and he startled like a dwarfling who had been snuck up on in the dark. Fili sighed and shook his head, grabbing a handful of Kili's coat and leading him on despite his brother's protests that he could take on whatever-it-was with one of his knives.

Though his heart was momentarily lightened, no amount of Kili's poor attempts at humor could brighten this day for Fili. He should be glad that his brother was trying to cope with his hamperment, even making a pitiful jibe here and there as though nothing was amiss, but the jokes only served to remind Fili that his brother _had_ changed, and nothing could make ammends for his loss. He knew it was his fault; he should have been at his brother's side to prevent the disaster before it occured.

"Fili...?" Kili said uncertainly, his voice trailing away. Fili could sense that he was judging himself, wondering what he had done to upset his brother, and he berated himself for not speaking up to dissuade his brother's perplexity. He had never intended to cause Kili to bear the guilt of his actions, yet his brother took the brunt of Fili's turmoil all the same.

It was not Kili's fault that Fili had been too slow to stop the Pale Orc from mutilating his hand. His brother could not be held to blame for being trapped and wounded in battle, for had Fili been watching his back as he should have, the disaster could have been averted.

If Kili had given up Fili would not have begrudged him for it, but instead his brother had shouldered the weight of the atrocity, blaming himself for his injury when the guilt was Fili's alone to bear_. He _had been the one to fail his brother and his Uncle, not Kili. His own kin had needed his aid and Fili had faltered at the crucial moment. He did not deserve to be the firstborn and the heir after Thorin's reign. Kili had faced up to the trial of his infirmity and overcome it, rising above the shame with a courage and boldness that Fili envied. His little brother deserved the throne more than he, and Fili wished he had a fraction of Kili's determination.

Fili would not have been surprised if Kili had hated him for destroying his life. It would ony have been fair had Kili despised him for his irresponsibility. Had Fili been stricken with a similar wound and known that it could have been prevented, would he have scorned his brother for failing to act in time?

The answer was an immediate _No!_, and a tiny, sad smile twitched at the corner of Fili's mouth as he admitted that even were both his hands and feet cut off, he could never force Kili to condemn himself for his lack of foresight. Even so, Fili spoke from inexperience and he had no way of determining whether he would truly have reacted in bitterness or forgiveness.

Had Kili shunned him for his folly, Fili would have understood and accepted without complaint. Instead Kili had clung to his brother in his dark hour, and Fili did not know whether to should feel guilty or grateful for this small mercy. He had brought Kili's future to ruin, and still his brother forgave him. He did not deserve such devotion.

"Course you do, Fili."

Fili started, realizing with a flush of humiliation that he had voiced his last thought aloud. Kili smiled kindly and nudged him with his elbow, comfortably at ease in contrast to the rampart consternation that left Fili stammering and fumbling for a plausible excuse for his words.

"It was not your fault," Kili said quietly, dark eyes shining with sincerity and compassion as he tried to make his brother meet his gaze.

Fili knew that he should be the one to comfort Kili, not the other way around. His little brother was the one who should be torn apart by the tragedy which had been dealt to him. The elder should be supporting the younger; not falling to pieces the moment his own condemning thoughts were broached.

"I wasn't there," Fili whispered, not daring to look at his brother lest the reproach he felt be reflected in Kili's eyes.

"Yes, you _were_," Kili insisted, sounding irritated as though Fili was being irrational by refusing to listen. "He would have killed me, Fili. You kept him from - "

"I could have prevented it!" Fili interceded, whirling on his heel to face his brother. "I could have stopped him, Kili! I _left _you! I thought that - that - " He raked a hand through his hair, ignoring the spikes of pain when his fingers snagged in his braids. "I wasn't thinking!" he finally choked out. "I abandoned you."

Kili was silent and Fili drowned in his guilt. This was all his fault and finally his brother knew it all. Fili did not know what reaction he had expected, but the stillness chafed at him and caused him to wallow deeper in his shame. He did not know what Kili was thinking at this moment, and Fili cursed that he had allowed the smallest glimmer of hope that Kili would accept his fault, have his tyrade, and life would go on as though nothing had happened. He did not know what to expect of his brother now, and he was overwhelmed with dread.

"Say it," he finally ordered huskily, "Just - say it already."

_You hate me. This is all my fault. You would be better off travelling alone right now, without my presense as a constant reminder of what you would never have lost had I been more careful. At least say that you need time to think it over before you ignore me._

Kili sighed heavily, tramping along a few steps and forcing Fili to follow along or be left behind. "All right, you asked for it. ... You're an idiot."

Fili halted so abruptly he may well have walked into a tree. Kili raised an eyebrow in amusement, smirking much like his old self though the dull pain still lingered in his gaze.

"How could I blame you for what has happened," he shook his head, sorrow and empathy lingering in his words. "We both knew that it was more important to reach Uncle. I ... I was careless..." he admitted with downcast eyes. "I should have watched for the enemy more closely."

Somehow Kili had turned the tide, raising Fili up as the hero and labelling himself as the object of weakness. As his brother had cunningly predicted, Fili would not allow him to degrade himself but immediately assumed the position of the protector.

"No one could have expected any more of you," he assured fervently.

"Of _both_ of us," Kili nodded solemnly. He grabbed Fili's arm and forced him to meet his fervent gaze. "Fili, _none _of this is your fault. Blame whom you will, but do not berate yourself on my account."

When Fili failed to respond Kili insisted quietly, "Fili, I'll be _fine_." His torn expression betrayed him, yet his words did not falter. "I can't... maybe this is ... I'm sure that..."

His own assurances caught in his throat and Kili took a deep breath, letting it out shakily. "It's not your fault," he finally determined. "We both took our chances on this quest, Fili. It was my choice to follow along. _Nothing_ you could have done would have changed anything."

A brief smile contradicted the tears glimmering in his eyes as Kili added, "Besides, if you and I had stuck together, Fili, you might have been the one to be harmed, and how could I live with that? What if it had been you who was trapped, and I had been unable to drive Azog away? I have never been able to emulate the tenacity you display in battle, Fili. What if ..."

Kili stared at the ground, stricken at the mere thought, "If you had... If I were unable to ..." His eyes shone with fervor as he declared quietly, "I could not have gone on without you, Fili."

"You think that I feel any differently?" Fili shook his head.

"No," Kili replied instantly. "But you _did_ save me in time, Fili. You _were_ there when I needed you. No one else prevented Azog from killing me that night. No one stood by me in the aftermath when I wanted nothing more than to give up all hope. Not even Uncle did so until later - not when I needed him most."

His gaze burning with intensity, Kili went on, "You never abandoned me, Fili. You were _always _there. Do not let me hear you accusing yourself of such lies again, because you _know_ it is not true." With a smile, true and genuine, he stated, "You stood by me through it all, Fili, and I only wish I could know whether I would be the same in your place."

Fili paused in astonishment, wondering when his little brother had grown up. There was a depth of newfound maturity in Kili's stalwart expression that unnerved him, for he knew that it indicated that childhood had been deserted and he now stood before a Prince of the line of Durin.

A pang of sorrow knifed through Fili at the revelation. He had lost his baby brother. A warrior born of the flames had taken his place, and he did not know if he would ever get Kili back.

A painful lump lodged in his throat and Fili could not answer. He clasped Kili's shoulder and forced a smile, turning away and trudging after Gandalf. He could feel Kili's burning gaze as his brother fell into step beside him, but Fili could not bring himself to answer his unspoken questions.

He did not know if he even wanted to find the answers himself.

* * *

"I am not overly fond of dwarves," was the cold welcome they received upon reaching the lodging of the fabled Beorn.

Kili had conveniently all but disappeared behind Gandalf, and Beorn's stern gaze was focused solely on Fili. He shifted uncomfortably under the skin changer's scrutiny, feeling unusually self-conscious of his fur lined coat and boots.

"We merely seek your advice, and perhaps your assistance if it would prove untroublesome," Gandalf responded calmly, leaning heavily on his staff as though wearied from an arduous journey. "We had the misfortune to run across a pack of orcs, and have lost both our luggage and our way. Surely you would not object to one or two of my companions resting here for a moment while we discuss our current predicament."

Beorn raised one bushy black eyebrow in criticism as he mentioned, "I see only one dwarf."

Gandalf swept around in perturb, not having realized that one of the brothers had vanished. He nudged Kili forward and into the open, muttering under his breath that cats would have proved easier to herd than the members of their company.

"Ah, so there are two of you," Beorn noted with satisfaction. "Who are you, then, and what is this Orc business that brings you to my front door?"

"Fili and Kili," Gandalf introduced, laying his hand on each dwarf's head in turn and unintentionally mixing up their names, "And I am Gandalf the Wizard; my cousin Radagast might have mentioned me during his travels to this region."

"I know Radagast, though he never spoke of you," Beorn responded, his words detached though his bushy eyebrows gave him an aura of foreboding as he regarded the two dwarves.

Fili and Kili exchanged a glance before hastily sweeping into low bows, muttering "At your service," in hopes that their lack of tact beforehand had not been overly noticed. Kili looked like he was ready to take shelter behind Gandalf again, and Fili snatched his hood before he could make good his retreat. Beorn watched the entire exchange, snorting in what Fili hoped was amusement at their antics.

"Well, perhaps you are who you claim to be," Beorn accepted, "Or perhaps you are not. You may as well come in, at least, and tell me about this misfortune of yours. I have not seen orcs within this region for many years, and I should like to hear your report - if it is to be kept short."

"We would not detain you longer than neccessary," Gandalf replied, a wry note in his voice as he caught Fili's eye and winked slyly.

Beorn grunted in acknowledgement but led them inside his great wooden house, not bothering to see whether or not they followed behind him. Fili was awed by the sheer size of the lodging; the doorway itself was like a stone archway over his head, and the roof seemed to stretch to the sky. He was reminded vaguely of Thorin's descriptions of the halls of Erabor, and he wondered if this was a foretaste of what was to come.

Kili was greeted with a reflection of another kind as he stepped inside, and the instant his brother went rigid Fili knew what was running through his mind. In the center of the room a large bonfire crackled merrily, smoke rising in a pillar towards the hole in the roof where it escaped its enclosement and greeted the crisp, cold air. Burnished auburn light shone off Kili's face, the fire glinting in his haunted eyes as he swallowed hard and glanced towards the door as though preparing to bolt.

Immediately Fili moved to turn his brother away; to hide him from the memories of the past; to shelter him from the horrors he had endured. Before he could reach him Kili forcibly gathered his senses and strode to the opposite wall, sinking down against it and folding his arms against his chest to disguise his shivering. Fili quickly joined him and offered a bright smile to Beorn as though nothing were amiss, wrapping one arm securely around his brother's quivering shoulders and wishing he could do something to erase the terror from Kili's mind.

If Beorn recognized that something ill had taken place he made no comment, patiently sitting back and allowing Gandalf to reccount his tale. With practiced ease Gandalf lit his pipe and took a few long puffs at it, as though gathering his thoughts for a particularly lengthy tale.

"I was travelling over the mountains with two or three of my companions..."

Beorn held up one large hand for silence, pointing out with some belligerence, "Two or _three_? I take it you have another dwarf hiding behind your cloak?"

Gandalf coughed on a whiff of smoke, admitting readily, "I did not think it wise to trouble you with too many visitors if you were otherwise occupied. I will, of course, call the others if you like."

_Other__**s**_ was clearly acknowledged by Beorn. He shot Gandalf a keen look but inclined his head, more likely to satisfy his curiosity than to offer a warm welcome. Gandalf gave a low, piercing whistle, and as though waiting for that signal Thorin and Bilbo presently appeared.

The hobbit appeared rankled and agitated, while Thorin was seething majestically, and Fili had a suspicion that the truce called between the two after the hobbit had saved Thorin's life had only lasted as long as it did because Thorin had neither time nor reason to be properly disgruntled while his nephew's life had been on the line.

Indeed, Thorin's attention rivetted instantly on Kili and Fili the moment he entered the room, and he spared only enough time to offer a proper nod of respect to Beorn before scrutinizing Fili in a silent demand of his brother's condition. Kili glanced away from the fire quickly and nodded that he was all right. Fili had to bite back a response, as even a thick skulled goblin could have discerned that his brother was fighting down a rising sense of panic upon being in such close proximity to the flames.

Thorin met Fili's eyes again, the command in his fiery blue gaze clear. _Watch out for him._

As leader of the company, he could not spare himself to stave off another emotional tidal wave; he entrusted that position to Fili, and he knew his nephew would not fail. Fili sighed and tapped his hand reassuringly against Kili's shoulder, earning a sharp jab to the ribs when Kili sullenly elbowed him for treating him like an invalid again.

_Some things never change,_ Fili considered with rueful smile.

"Tell me the part where three companions turn into four," Beorn spoke to Gandalf, a hint of both intrigue and annoyance in his gruff tone. "I can see your third _dwarf_ companion, but who is the fourth?"

"A hobbit from the Shire, Bilbo Baggins by name," Gandalf introduced as the hobbit bowed nervously and skittered off to sit by the wizard, looking as timid as a titmouse cornered by a bear. "The other is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror; the leader of our company."

"I have heard of you," Beorn acknowledged the heir of Durin, his mannerism hinting of more respect than when he had greeted the initial party. Thorin offered his services as was customary, his mannerism regal as though he were already King Under the Mountain as he settled himself across from the skin changer.

Beorn adressed Gandalf once more, "Tell me now, about those orcs you were waylaid by..."

"Ah, yes," Gandalf nodded cheerfully, as caught up in his tale as Beorn. "We had just escaped from the Great Goblin and his hoard..."

"Goblins?" Beorn interrupted, a dark glower creasing his forehead. "You should have mentioned that from the start. How came you so near their caverns?"

"Quite an accident on our part," Gandalf replied. "I was not there at the time, of course, and the watchguards had little knowledge of what lay under their very feet." He dropped his voice conspiritally, "I suspect it was Ori on the watch that night, though I should not say it within his hearing; he is quite sensitive, being the youngest of our company after all."

"I did not recall you mentioning an 'Ori,'" Beorn narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "I take it there is yet another dwarf or hobbit skulking close by?"

"Actually, there were two others I meant to introduce," Gandalf allowed with an apologetic shrug. "Nori and Ori were supposed to - Ah, there they are now."

"Well, come in and get it over with," Beorn waved agitatedly. "And before you say it, I have no need of your services; do sit down and allow the wizard to continue."

Ori was quite beside himself and had to be pulled to a bench by Nori, who appeared equally at a loss for how to respond to the situation. Gandalf took another long puff at his pipe before continuing to narrate,

"Now then, _I_ was not trapped when the goblins attacked, and I was able to slip into their halls undetected. I followed the main hoard until they reached the Great Goblin's throne, and there it was a pretty mess that we found ourselves in, for what need had the goblins of a dozen prisoners when only one would suffice to pay Azog's tribune?"

"Azog?" Beorn reacted sharply, "So the Pale Orc comes into your tale."

"At a later time," Gandalf assented, reluctant to branch into the latter days of their journey. "But at the moment we only had the goblins to deal with, thankfully -"

"Yes, you and your _twelve _companions, only half of which I see now."

"Ah, I forgot; there are two more of them now," Gandalf said brightly, indicating for Balin and Dwalin to enter next. Beorn waved them aside with a grunt, too caught up in Gandalf's reccount to lengthen the interruption.

"Now, where was I ... " Gandalf paused as though forgettful.

"What use would a dozen prisoners be to the goblins were only one required for the Pale Orc?" Beorn prompted.

"Ah-hah! That was when I stepped in," Gandalf nodded smugly. "I killed several of those goblins with a flash -"

"Wizardy does have its uses, I suppose," Beorn congratulated.

" - And the fourteen of us were forced to flee for our very lives."

"_Fourteen?_" Beorn rumbled in perplexion, "I see only eight - ten here," he corrected as Oin and Gloin entered next.

"There may have been a slight miscalculation on my part," Gandalf conceded. "I did not wish to bother you with our numbers at the time - "

"Oh, let them all come, then," Beorn shook his head. "So long as there are no more interruptions; at this rate I shall not hear the end of your tale by dark."

"Certainly," Gandalf nodded, a sly gleam in his eyes. "We ran for our lives, my thirteen companions and myself, and I must say we killed at least a hundred goblins in our mad dash."

"Good," Beorn accepted, "You accomplished something to say the least."

"We had nearly escaped our troubles when the Goblin King himself decided to put a stop to the nonsense and impede our way." Gandalf paused for effect, puffing lightly on his pipe in mirth. "I merely had but to slice my sword across his massive girth and that was the end for him. Oh, and that will be Bifur and Bofur coming up behind you."

"At yer service," Bofur said for both his brother and himself, his hat flopping in his eyes as he and Bifur swept into identical low bows.

"Enough, I see you there," Beorn dismissed. "That makes twelve of your companions, at least. I suppose the other will also make an equally unconventional entrance."

"Not at all; in fact, here they are now."

Bombur, not to be put off any longer, had followed not thirty seconds after Bofur and Bifur had set out, and Dori had been forced to accompany him or be left behind.

"Fifteen of you, is it? Where was the last member during this grand escape of yours?" Beorn wondered.

"Well, it was not until after we were some distance from the goblin caverns that I realized we had lost our hobbit along the way," Gandalf explained. "How he slipped out without being detected I shall never know..." Here he cast Bilbo a covertly suspicious glance, "But what mattered in the end was that all were safe and accounted for."

He paused his tale, knocking the ash from his pipe and refilling it at his liesure. A graveness settled in his gaze and Fili sensed what was to come next.

"Our triumph only lasted a moment, for our arrival had been anticipated." Gandalf took a long, thoughtful draught, a wreath of smoke wafting around him like a shadow of the night of burning. "We were set upon by a party of orcs, led by Azog himself."

Kili rose to his feet and marched from the room, not even offering a mumbled pardon for his abrupt departure. Without hesitation Fili darted after him, dodging around Balin and Dwalin's feet and intentionally avoiding Thorin's flinty, inquiring gaze.

* * *

Kili was leaning against a tall pine when his brother found him, his face darkened with memories as he picked at the bark of a small branch jutting out beside him. Though the sun shone brilliantly around them it seemed paler for the somber moment, and the bite of the wind seemed all the chillier. Even Beorn's horses appeared to sense that the hour was one of grievance and had gathered close by as though to offer their sympathy.

"I was just getting some air," Kili insisted as he glanced up at his brother's approach.

They both knew he was lying, but Fili let the flimsy excuse pass. He merely sat down beside his brother, offering the reassurance of his presence and allowing Kili to sort through his own thoughts.

"I'm not helpless," Kili finally said, staring grimly into the distance with a resolution that Fili had come to associate with his brother's more dispirited moods. Kili scraped his forefinger and thumbnail against the smoother underbark of the tree, frowning in concentration until he gave up with a sigh.

"I just don't want to deal with it, Fili. I'm not ... _me_," he stated emphatically. "I ... I don't know what I am anymore."

He fell silent and leaned against Fili's shoulder, more for the consolence of knowing he was not alone than the desperation for acknowledgement that he had shown in the days before. Fili slung his arm around him and pulled him close, as though they were once again children clinging to one another for comfort and strength. Kili instinctively relaxed in his hold, his cares and worries seeming dimmer for the moment as Fili stood to take the brunt of Fate's storm.

"You are my brother," Fili assured earnestly. "There is nothing more I would ever wish for than that."

"I know," Kili responded quietly. " ... I only wish I knew who I was to myself."

* * *

**Aw, pep talk from Kili! ... And further angst. ...**

**af#%*(GHSKIG*R*($*(^(*#$$$$t90zjw+(_^(**

**Currently the muses are fighting over the keyboard. Little muse demands more action, the original Muse insists on more angst. Pity the author.**

**The muses offer their gratefulness for the reviewers' donations of "street meat" combos (lil' musie drank all the pop), Terries chocolate orange cake, MORE starbucks (Eeek! Can't keep the little buggers out of the caffeine! Rabid little monsters...), chocolate cheesecake, frappechino; cookies and sandwich, more cookies; pizza and hot chocolate (lil musie is now addicted to hot chocolate), even MORE cookies (snapped up lazily by the original Muse), pasta, chocolate chips and milk, food from Bilbo's pantry (he hardly can use it on his adventure, after all...), strawberry smoothies, skittles and smarties (and hopefully the Olympic pool they could fill so that Lil musie can swim in them to its heart's delight), Chocolate Gemstones, chocolate bars and coca-cola (Who donated the energy drinks? Bad Original Muse for trying to steal it from the fridge! You know too much caffeine warps my plotlines!), and of course more hot cocoa with real melted chocolate. :)**

**The original Muse has scarfed down most of the food, while little muse had guzzled all the coffee to keep its rival from drinking any and stealing away its story. 1 Hyperactive musie + 1 gorged rabid warg = ... Durin!family angst galore... Poor Kili and Fili.**


	10. Choice

_FOR THE SHADOWS LOOK ON,_

_AND THEY RARELY FORGET,_

_EVERY DREAM THAT YOU'VE HAD!_

_EVERY ACT YOU REGRET!_

* * *

**_Hehehehe! The Embers muse and I have been plotting our diabolical scheme for weeks! Fear us, oh Line of Durin! _**

**_I did warn that the Muses are evil and highly susceptible to dark plot twists when listening to Transiberian Orchestra music..._**

* * *

Indicating a point on the map, Beorn discussed it with Thorin in muted tones, the serenity of the morning broken only by the clatter of dishes from Bombur's mid-morning feast and Ori's cajolling as he coaxed a rabbit to eat a piece of bread and honey from his hand.

The stillness was shattered when Fili abruptly clomped into the room, braids whipping around his face as he inquired, "Has anyone seen Kili?"

Thorin glanced up in mild vexation at the disturbance, his exasperation fading as he caught the worried note in Fili's question. "I thought he was with you."

"He disappeared!" Fili threw his hands in the air in helpless frustration. "I turned my back for one minute and he vanished!"

"Excuse me," Ori interrupted the conversation, "But I thought I saw him heading towards the forest not long ago. He looked like he did not want to be followed, so I thought perhaps he wanted to be alone…."

"Trust Kili to find trouble one way or another," Fili muttered, spinning on his heel and striding briskly out the doorway in the general direction where Ori had pointed. "Wandering off by himself… only inviting further disaster and dragging me into it. One of these days I'm going to…"

He continued berating his errant little brother as he continued deeper into the trees, his worry increasing with each step. He half expected to look up and see Kili watching him in amusement, failing to hold back his laughter at working 'dear older brother' into a panic, yet he feared discovering the opposite should Kili have been injured or worse...

What he found instead was a truly pitiable sight.

Kili had procurred one of the bows Beorn had given them for their journey, and had somehow fumbled it into a drawn position by use of his teeth. The end of an arrow was clenched between his jaw as his left hand firmly gripped the bow, his right hand pawing at the taut string as he tried to loop it over his wrist so that he could aim properly.

It was too clear what little brother was attempting to prove to himself, and Fili could only flinch when the bowstring slipped from Kili's teeth and snapped against his wrist, the arrow speeding into the distance before a light _ping_ indicated it had struck a pebble. Kili let out a growl that Fili pretended did not sound close to a whine of disconsolence before snatching his last arrow and grappling it into position.

Fili decided then that enough was enough. Kili was only hurting himself further with his attempts, and Fili sensed it would not be long before the discouragement broke him down completely. He stepped forward to intercept his brother, only to step back as a twig _cracked_ under his boot.

Kili startled at the noise, his final arrow vanishing in a whisper of leaves as he spun to face the intruder. Realizing that his older brother had been watching, Kili scowled and ignored Fili's presence, stomping over to a tree where he had rested a second quiver.

Fili almost took a step back at the fire in Kili's gaze. Too much of Thorin radiated in the flaring embers of his coal dark eyes. With difficulty Kili hooked the tips of his scarred fingers over the bowstring and pulled it back, growling in frustration when his fingertips bent back against his will. He resorted to his teeth once more, only to hiss a curse in Khuzdul and rub his smarting upper lip when the bowstring slipped free and whipped his mouth.

"How long have you been out here?" Fili asked tentatively, apprehensive of overstepping his boundaries and sending Kili into another state of withdrawel.

"Hours," Kili replied tersely, apparently too distracted to be mortified that there was a witness to his humiliation. "Does it matter?"

He tucked the bowstring around his right wrist and drew it back again, craning his neck at a painful angle to guide an arrow tip to the string by use of his teeth. Fili cringed at the display and tried to appear relaxed, as though he was not ready to jump forward and assist his brother at any given moment.

The arrow never aligned with the string, rather sliding sideways from Kili's mouth and plopping onto the grass. As he snatched for it the bowstring snapped foward with a _twang_, striking the side of his jaw and leaving a darkening welt in his place. Several choice words which followed might have granted Kili a matching handprint on the other cheek had Mother been present.

Fili leaned against a tree and forced himself not to speak, observing in silence as Kili snatched another arrow and fitted it poorly to the bow. In the midst of balancing arrow, bow and useless fingers, his hair tangled along the string and with a yell of disgust Kili finally tossed the weapon away, yanking a few strands of dark hair loose while he was at it. His temper strained beyond sensible reasoning, Kili viciously stamped on the offending piece of wood as though his troubles could be erased by its destruction.

Fili calmly waited out the storm, though he winced at his brother's erratic behavior. Only when the worst had passed did he dare approach. He fought for words; for encouragement; for guidance; only to scramble at useless threads of a spider's web for the proper response to give his brother.

Kili saved him from the turmoil and spoke first. "I thought - I thought perhaps there was still a chance."

His face burned with shame and he picked idly at an arrow, plucking the feathers from the shaft one by one until it was nothing more than a useless twig to be broken over his knee.

Something was off.

"Kili, did you just..." Fili's voice trailed off and he stepped forward and snatched Kili's right hand, ignoring his brother's indignant yelp as he examined the scarring. "You _twitched _your fingers. You were holding the arrow steady for a moment! I saw it!"

Kili rolled his eyes and yanked free of Fili's grip, absently rubbing his hand and repeating the gesture; the single digit soldered from his foremost two fingers tapping against his entrapped thumb.

"Yes, I can _twitch_ it," he replied sourly. "Shall we have a feast and ask Beorn to provide his finest mead to celebrate this momentous occasion? I can't even hold a bowstring, Fili; do you realize how humiliating this is?"

"Wait, you - give it here!" Fili responded tersely, grabbing Kili's wrist and carefully examining the scar tissue. He looked up with perplexity, ignoring the flash of resentment in Kili's eyes.

"How long have you been able to move your fingers?"

Glowering at his brother Kili raised his left hand and waggled five fingers sarcastically. With an equally dark look, Fili lightly slapped his hand away and waited for a proper response. At length Kili sighed, muttering under his breath when Fili would not relinquish his grip.

"Fine. Three days - a week if you count spasms. It's only been these fingers, though, so don't start the victory chants."

"I thought you said you could feel nothing, not even pain," Fili pointed out, a glimmer of hope beginning to form.

"I suppose I should have mentioned every last detail to Thorin when he finally was convinced I had some wothwhile meaning on this quest," Kili snapped, the bitterness in his words stemming as much from disappointment as from antagonism. "Of course I can feel pain – would anyone if their hand had nearly been scorched off?"

He pulled away from Fili and scrabbled at the rope like scars, his breathing harsh and ragged in his unmistakable loathing against the handicap. Fili was not to be deterred, however. He had had enough of little brother's grouchiness. Without a hint of apology he seized Kili's hand and examined it more closely, poking at the scarring and asking,

"So you can feel it if I do this?"

"Fili – for Durin's sake, let me be! All right, yes! It feels like some annoying beetle is clawing at me right now … Oh, that's right – that would be my brother who is being an irritant and will not _drop the matter._"

"What are you so defensive about?" Fili inquired calmly, sensing a deeper meaning behind his brother's agitation.

Kili opened his mouth to reply and abruptly clamped it shut, a flash of fear darting across his eyes before he shook his head. "I'm not – I'm not defensive about anything."

Suddenly it was as though he was prepared to take flight the moment he was liberated, and that only clarified Fili's suspicions. He ignored Kili's petulant tugging to free his trapped limb and took a closer look.

"The scarring does not appear as deep as it should have been," Fili observed, a hint of a smile taking form. "Perhaps Gandalf was able to mend it better than he anticipated."

He looked up with a grin, only for his excitement to fade at one glimpse of Kili's stricken face.

"Don't," Kili whispered, slipping free of Fili's grasp. His wounded, dark eyes betrayed his thoughts. _Do not allow me to hope when there is no future to be seen. Do not lie to me and pretend all is not lost when I know it is over._

"Kili," Fili implored gently, treading softly lest he sever his brother's fraying thread of confidence at this crucial moment, "Let me ask Beorn… surely it will do no harm for him to see it. He cannot determine anything worse than we already know."

"I don't want him to see it," Kili entreated, hugging his arms to his chest and shaking his head. "I don't …Thorin already…"

"_I'm not weak,_" he finally said in a choked whisper. "Fili, I only just gained Uncle's confidence in me… don't give him another excuse to …" He bit his lower lip and lowered his eyes, unwilling to speak further.

Fili sighed heavily, realizing they were fast descending a familiar downward slope. "Kili, I thought Uncle already established that it does not matter whether – "

"It matters to _me_," Kili interrupted with quiet fervency. "I don't … I don't want to disappoint him again."

"You _won't_," Fili insisted, placing a hand on Kili's shoulder and silently commanding him to believe his words. "You were never a disappointment to him, Kili, and you know that. He will not think less of you for trying one last time. Perhaps this time we will _find_ a cure, Kili. Maybe there is hope after all…do you intend to pass it by without even giving Beorn an opportunity to refute it? _Please_, brother. Give it one last chance."

Doubt shimmered in Kili's eyes before he slowly nodded in numb acceptance. A weight seemed to lift from Fili's chest and he grabbed his brother's arm before he could change his mind, dragging him away from the copse of trees where his bow and quiver lay forgotten.

* * *

"Do you think there is anything that can be done?"

Fili explicitly avoided Thorin's gaze, already knowing the response he would receive. Thorin would be cautious, minutely shaking his head in warning for Fili to get his brother out of the situation before the hope dawning in Kili's eyes was snuffed out. Fili did not budge, carefuly guarding his expression and choosing to focus on his brother instead.

Kili remained still as Beorn inspected his mangled limb, the dwarf's hand frightfully small in comparison to the skin changer's. Wistful longing flickered in Kili's eyes as though the embers of his dreams had been stirred to life, and he scarcely dared to breath.

"The limb itself is whole," Beorn grunted, indicating the scars lacing Kili's hand like the thick webbing of a spider, "But the fingers should have been separated while they healed. The scarring will have to be cut away before any improvement can be deciphered."

"Then he can still regain the use of that hand?" Fili exclaimed, losing all decorum in his excitement.

Kili's eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, waiting in dread expectation for the final verdict as Beorn turned his hand over and stroked his chin in thought.

"With time and prudent care," he determined with a slow nod. "If your wizard could not heal it properly, however, I do not expect that any natural recovery will be swift."

"But it _will_ heal," Fili surmised with a clipped command in his tone.

Beorn inclined his head methodically. "There is only one way to know."

He regarded Kili with a stern yet not unkind gaze and warned gravely, "I must cut away the scarring with a hot knife. I have a remedy which can dull the pain, or I can offer you a draught which will put you into a deep sleep until it is over."

Kili had the look of a frightened deer cornered by a pack of wargs, however, he summoned up his courage and shook his head. "No, I – I would rather be awake for it."

Beorn assented without a word, relinquishing Kili's hand and leaving to gather the necessary items for the surgery. Kili let out a shuddering breath and clenched his hand in fretful compulsion, seeking out his brother as a wave of alarm shuddered through him.

Thorin took his opportunity and pulled Fili aside, hissing in his ear, "What possessed you to revive his hopes when you _know _all may be to no avail?"

"He was able to curl his fingers, Uncle," Fili beamed, unable to contain his enthusiasm. "He told me he could feel pain again, and even Beorn agreed that the scarring was not irreversible as it first appeared!"

"What if it cannot be mended?" Thorin pointed out grimly. "How do you intend to broach the matter to your brother?"

The thought had plagued Fili and he had ignored it. Forced to consider the reality now, he shifted uncertainly and pleaded, "Just give it a chance, Uncle; what do we have to lose?"

Thorin's stare was unrelenting. "Ask your brother that," was his clipped response.

Fili sighed as his Uncle turned away. He felt drained and lost, as though he had been set to decide the course of a life and chosen the wrong path. Kili, still rubbing at his hand in nervous agitation of what was to come, watched Thorin's retreating form before turning to face his brother.

"It's all right, Fili," he said quietly, eerily calm despite the frantic gleam in his eyes. "I … I know it may already be too late … I'm not afraid, though."

He chewed on his upper lip, his courage wavering, and he welcomed Fili's embrace, taking shelter in the arms of his older brother and knowing that - for this moment at least - there was nothing to fear.

* * *

Oin was the only other dwarf assisting in the grisly task; the others Thorin had sent away with a glance and a word. Gandalf himself had not been seen since the night before. Fili had voiced his curiosity as to the wizard's whereabouts, only to receive a grunt of disapproval from Thorin. It would appear that his Uncle had his begun to doubt their guide's expertise.

Thorin's grim expression was all the more severe for the glow of the fire. His eyes reflected his apology beforehand of that which he dreaded, yet knew was unavoidable. Kili's wrist was secured in his vice-like grip, Thorin's other hand securing him in place while Fili held his brother tightly from behind.

Though the herb and honey tonic Beorn had given him should have taken the edge off his wariness, Kili's reserve crumbled as his addled senses latched onto the red-hot knife resting in the coals of the fire. He struggled like a wild animal against Fili and Thorin's grip, struck dumb in his terror as his eyes silently begged his brother to release him.

Fili ducked his head, shaking in the effort to hold his brother still despite the bitter taste of betrayal that stabbed him to the heart. He could not imagine what thoughts were running through Kili's mind, as he was held down by his own family to endure a new version of the agony that haunted his dreams. The horror of what was to take place clawed at Fili's throat until he, too, yearned for a means of escape.

Only Thorin's resolve held true, even after Fili gave in and pleaded that they put off the surgery until Kili could better handle the torment. Thorin knew that no time would prove less tortuous, nor would his nephew have the strength to face his nightmares again if he continued to run in this manner. If there _was _a possibility that his hand could be restored, then it must be done so now, lest Kili be lost for shame of failing in his resolve at the last moment.

Beorn and Thorin's eyes met as the large man plucked the knife from the coals, a silent message exchanged. Beorn offered no word of warning to either young dwarf before he grasped Kili's hand and sliced the first delicate incision to separate his thumb and forefinger.

A wretched wail filled the lodge and Fili wanted to scream; to cover his ears and hide from the terrible sound; to fight Beorn away and never allow him to touch his baby brother again. Thorin shouted for him to control himself and the command grounded him, reminding him that, for Kili's sake, he must be the strong one. Even so tears streamed down Fili's cheeks as Kili sobbed in anguish, wrenching in Thorin's grip, his eyes unseeing as he struggled against an unseen terror.

Oin worked deftly alongside Beorn, smearing an ointment of his own making onto raw flesh after the excess scarring was carved away from Kili's thumb and swiftly binding it in a clean strip of cloth. The knife was glowing by the time he was finished and as Beorn lifted it from the coals a second time Kili shouted in dismay and hid his face in Fili's hair, weeping openly for dread as the burnished metal drew nearer.

Fili cursed explosively in Khuzdul, wishing that his brother had opted for common sense over bravery and accepted the sleeping draught Beorn had offered. He could only wrap his arms tighter around Kili and hide his eyes from the implement of torture, unable to bear his brother's shattering scream as the next incision was made.

If possible the second incision was even worse than the last, for the first two fingers had curled into one another and seared into the third. It brought a gruesome reality to Bofur's wood carving and Fili had to turn his gaze away, sickened by the sight. Thick callouses of dead flesh were gouged away, leaving raw and bloody rends in their wake. By the third pass of the knife Kili's endurance had reached its limit and he fell limply against Fili's shoulder.

"Thank Aulë," Thorin breathed, closing his eyes momentarily in relief.

The final two fingers required a delicacy that belayed Beorn's giant hands, and Fili experienced a moment of fear as the skin changer exchanged his knife for a tiny, razor thin blade in order to separate Kili's pinkie from the encasement which welded it to his palm. He could only be grateful that his brother was unconscious, for Fili himself entertained the horror that Beorn's grip might prove clumsy and the knife slip, severing Kili's finger and destroying their hopes forever.

Beorn's skill proved true, however, and with a finness that Oin must surely have envied he cut away the dead flesh and carefully straightened the final digit, allowing the dwarven healer to bind the wound before Beorn examined his handywork with satisfaction.

"What now?" Thorin voiced the concern of all present.

"We wait," Beorn rumbled, rising to his feet. Metal clinked as he gathered his tools, silence weighing heavily as Ori cleaned up the mess.

Fili sighed and clutched Kili to himself as Thorin relinquished his grip, tears sparking his eyes as he stared at the white strips of cloth binding Kili's fingers and recalling the first night he had seen the garish wounds mutilating his little brother's hand. Though there was no promise that Kili would regain the full use of his injured limb, nor would he ever be the same, for the time being Fili was content. His brother at least had a fighting chance, and he would accept every small mercy with gladness.

"'Z'sit over, Fili?" Kili murmured, his brow furrowing in confusion as he was drawn back to consciousness.

Fili blinked back tears of relief, leaning his cheek against his brother's head and thanking every Higher Being of Elves, Dwarves and Men.

"Yes, Kili... It is over."

* * *

_Several Days Later..._

* * *

"I must thank you for your continued hospitality," Gandalf adressed Beorn as he sat outside the lodge, smoking his pipe with the ease of a man whose burden had been lifted free of his shoulders. A column of blue smoke flared momentarily into a dragon before it dispersed, but the ill boding of their future trek did not darken this day for the wizard.

"I said that I have no liking for dwarves," Beorn recalled his initial greeting upon first setting eyes upon his unwelcome visitors. "You seem to enjoy thwarting expectations, Gandalf the Grey."

The wizard snorted in contained amusement. He knew full well that against his reasoning Beorn had grown fond of Fili and Kili. The two brothers could sneak their way into the most fortified strongholds, and there was no knowledge until it was too late that one's defenses had been shattered.

A short distance away Fili and Kili were sparring, the younger dwarf lighter on his feet than before the Night of Fire, with a crafty gleam in his eyes that had been sorely missed by all. His right hand was flung out for balance, the fingers held rigid by a splint Oin had contrived after he grew exasperated with Kili's constant attempts to bend his fingers further and further. Once he realized they had a spark of movement he could not have managed before, there was no stopping his efforts for improvement. Indeed, the future appeared bright and full of promise for the young dwarf, even if it would be months yet before he could hold a bow properly.

"You could have saved yourself some trouble if you had taken more care with your magic," Beorn mentioned with a covert glance in Gandalf's direction. "He might have been spared the pain."

Gandalf's face darkened and he took a long, slow draught of his pipe. The shadows seemed to deepen around them as he acquitted, "There were two others injured in the same battle. I was hard pressed to save his life; there was no time for meticulousness."

"Or was there?" The accusation was light, yet dagger sharp as Beorn saw through his alabi. "You could have prevented this, Gandalf. Why did you falter?"

Lines of turmoil and weariness creased the wizard's brow and he shook his head. "I believed that nothing more could be done," he defended himself, his words somber and ragged with admonishment. In a lower, darker tone, he spoke to no one save perhaps himself. "I had no way of knowing."

A voice, high pitched and childish, betrayed his thoughts from the shadows.

_"Ah, but you did know, Gandalf the Grey. You had a choice set before you..."_


	11. Fate

_And in the dark he sits alone, to watching his final hours bleeding. _

_While unconcerned against the wall, the clock it ticks away the time..._

* * *

The tombs under the rock were cold and unforgiving, alike to the mountain itself. Beauty, terrible beauty, and sorrow mingled in the intricate carvings depicting the life and death of the King Under the Mountain.

Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thror, son of Thrain, lay in silence in the Mountain's cold embrace. His sister's sons had been buried alongside him, their lives cut cruelly short by the foolishness of greed. That which Thorin had sacrificed all to protect had slain them in the end, and there was no tale of glory which could wipe the sorrow from an old man's heart.

* * *

_No need for words, for in the dark all words have long since lost their meaning._

* * *

"I do not know why you have called me here."

The voice was a childish pout, and Gandalf stirred with the difficulty of one who had lived for too long and realized that hope was vain and all was grasping for the wind. Against the wall a dirty young waif regarded the tombs with scorn, unmoved by the solemnity of death and the mourning which echoed from every heart.

She - or It, as the Fates had been set in place since the beginning of time and neither gender nor age held any meaning to them - regarded Gandalf with a wisdom beyond his own years, pale eyes derisive and calm, as though despite her appearance of youth she had witnessed centuries of war and strife.

He could only struggle to form one question. "Why?"

The Fate regarded him with collected disregard, folding her arms across her filthy, colorless dress. "Why should I be held to answer for that? I am not my Sister; I cannot control her paths. Your king is dead. Another shall rise in his place, and time will go on. Why should I care?"

"They could have been spared this end," Gandalf implored, feeling too aged for the weight of grief upon his heart. "They were only children."

"Fate chooses whom She wills," the waif shrugged heartlessly. "Children are born, and children die. These two were no different than the Elven babe killed by a spider. Why should you mourn them?"

His fury at her calloused response burned in his eyes. The Fates knew nothing of the depth of love and devotion shared among mortals. Their lives were eternal, and they determined the destinies of the worlds. Those who understood that life was short cherished it, however, and for it to be torn so cruelly from them was a judgment that even the impassionate Fate should permit herself to understand.

"You knew nothing of them," Gandalf shook his head, his voice breaking as his gaze rivetted on the tombs.

The slabs of carved stonework did them no justice. They could not hope to describe the brash, hope filled heirs who had been cruelly slaughtered in a pointless conflict.

Gandalf remembered. He recalled every detail as though it had only been yesterday when they had started on their quest for the Lonely Mountain.

_Kili was life,_ he thought fondly. His eyes were ever alight with mischief and his contagious laughter could lighten the most burdened of hearts.

Fili was hope. He was the sureness of an heir, with the grim determination of his Uncle yet the wisdom of his father. Had he lived he would have been a ruler that all would have revered and none forgotten.

Even when consumed by his greed in the end, Thorin had been a guiding light for his people. He was their shield and their strength; the promise of victory out of desolation.

"How can you not see them for who they were?" Gandalf accused, a catch in his voice as memories flooded him anew.

"We do not grow attached to mortals," the Fate huffed, drawing closer and nudging a rock aside with her bare toe, "Only to those whom we favor, and those are few and far between."

"Can you bring them back?"

She stilled at the abrupt demand, ancient eyes regarding him shrewdly as she edged forward and ran a hand along the tomb wall.

"You want me to alter my Sister's course. You want me to aid their petty lives. You realize what you are asking of me, do you not?"

Gandalf did not answer, and the Fate's eyes narrowed in scorn. "Do you not know the penalty of meddling with the Fates? Every life leads its course. Every hour is set in stone. Should I concede with your request, I should be unravelling a sequence of events which may lead only to further destruction. You do not know what you ask of me."

"I only want you to protect them," Gandalf gave up in defeat, his gaze silently pleading that she understand.

The Fate snorted derisively. "I can tell you where you went wrong," she conceded, her voice haughty and conceited.

A vision took form at a wave of her hand, and Gandalf winced as he witnessed the final moments of the Sons of Durin. Fili and Kili stood back to back, the elder's swords flashing in the light as the younger scavanged a goblin's arrow to replace his empty quiver.

"There, right there!" the Fate said excitedly, pointing to a goblin rising behind Thorin.

In the instant that Kili whirled on the foe Thorin also turned, his hesitation marginal as the goblin was unexpectedly slain with the arrow of its own kind. His pause was brief, yet deadly, for in that instant a second goblin took hold of the opportunity and ducked under Thorin's shield, driving its sword under the edge of his armor and twisting it viciously into his side.

"Did you not see?" the Fate questioned as the vision faded, "Your folly was bringing a thirteenth member on your silly little quest, Gandalf. The boy was a number of ill luck from the start, and yet you hoped you could absolve the dilemma by inviting the hobbit to join you."

A sad smile flitted across Gandalf's eyes; the Fate knew little of the loyalty of the Dwarven race if she believed Kili would have remained behind had he not been permitted to accompany his kin.

The Fate shook her head, tsking in contempt. "Do you understand now? I cannot alter the course you have set for yourself. Not without... unpleasant consequences."

Gandalf's only response was to cast her a withering stare. _What consequences could prove worse than this? _was his unspoke accusation.

With shift of minor uncertainty she clarified, "I shall have to dispose of the unlucky number."

* * *

_Still when they whisper in his ear, he tries to read between the lines_

* * *

"No! Surely not!" he objected at once, rising to his feet in dismay.

Though he towered over her slight form, the Fate was unfazed by his horror. "Why not? You have seen the events which played out. Your pretty little archer is his King's bane. If you wish for a life to be spared, you must be willing to sacrifice another. Do not be so downhearted, Gandalf; I only ask for this one life and will return to you two others which would not have survived. You should be grateful for your good fortune."

"Should I condemn Fili to a life without his brother?" Gandalf retorted, his voice raising to a near shout. "Shall I plague Thorin with the guilt of killing his sister's youngest son?"

"At least the mother would still have one son left to console her," the Fate shrugged apathetically. "It is better than none at all, I should think."

Her logic was undeniable, and yet Gandalf was repulsed at the thought. "Is there _no_ other way?" he demanded. "Can you not spare all their lives?"

The Fate scrunched up her nose in contemplation before offering off-handedly, "There is ... another way." She eyed the wizard with unfettered disdain. "You may not like the results."

"Will they all be permitted to live?" Gandalf pressed, summarizing all the members of their company in his question.

"Your fourteen pets will all stand under their pretty little mountain by the battle's end," the Fate confirmed.

"And Kili?"

"He will... survive." Her eyes flashed silver and the Fate regarded him with cold defiance, ordering in no small terms, "You cannot interfere, Gandalf. When I make my move, you will allow me to do as I will. If you should disrupt my plans, I promise that the consequences will be severe."

A hand clenched his throat, for Gandalf knew the dire warnings against bargaining with Fates. Foregoing all caution he nodded reluctantly. "Agreed."

She smiled, and he had the impression he had signed a contract he would later regret.

* * *

_What I see in the night, what I feel in your heart,_

_All your dreams, all your lies; can you tell them apart? _

* * *

Gandalf saw her when they were waylaid outside the goblin caverns, her eyes gleaming craftily as wolves and goblins were replaced by wargs and orcs, Azog himself as their leader. He fought against his desire to act when Thorin stood against Azog alone, holding to his promise not to interfere though every fiber of his being screamed that this was not the way it was intended to be.

When the Fate flitted from the shadows and tapped Azog's shoulder, guiding his attention to the young dwarf fighting alone, when she whispered lies of good sport and enticed him with promises of crushing a prince's spirit, it was everything Gandalf could do to divert his attention away and assist Bombur instead.

When Kili's screams reverberated amidst the conflict Gandalf could hold back no longer and he turned to the Fate with an unspoken plea, begging that she alter her course and cease her malicious torment. She only smiled and shook her head, mouthing silently,

_**You chose this.**_

Her promise was upheld and they survived; Fili, Kili and Thorin, along with the rest of their company. Gandalf could feel no cheer in this accomplishment, however, for it had come at too grave a cost.

* * *

_See the hands on the clock, are you watching them turn? _

_For your candle's quite low, we've been watching it burn!_

* * *

The Fate never gave him rest, scrutinizing his every move with those shrewd, timeless eyes of hers. When he began to mend Kili's brutalized hand the Fate shook her head and he forced himself to appear ignorant, despising the sight of the mangled paw that testified the archer's loss. He had never felt such hatred for another being save the Necromancer; not until this moment. The Fate's only response was to laugh at his dismay, her shrilll voice unheard save to his ears alone.

She followed them across their journey, ever watching, ever knowing. Not a moment would pass without her straying into Gandalf's line of sight, regarding him coldly, reminding him of his promise.

_**No interference.**_

* * *

_Do you lie here awake as the shadows look on?_

_Should they cry for your sake? Should you sleep in their arms? _

* * *

The nights seemed to draw into years and he could offer no comfort to Kili, knowing that it was his decision which had brought tragedy to the young prince. There was no consolence which could ammend the loss the former archer had suffered, and thus Gandalf kept his silence. The knowledge that they would escape a far more brutal destiny was of no solace to the wizard, for no sacrifice is worth the blood which must be shed.

In another life Gandalf had enjoyed the period of rest in Beorn's lodge. In a day and age unravaged by war it had proved a moment when he could let down his guard and trust that Thorin and his followers would be safe for a time.

Instead he was plagued by doubts and the memories of a war which had yet to take place, and not for the first time he wondered if he had chosen wisely in sparing Thorin and Fili's lives in exchange for the broken shell of a young man.

Still Fate watched and shook her head, and he had no foreknowledge of what would have taken place should he have chosen a separate path.

* * *

_For the shadows see all and they rarely forget,_

_Every dream that you've had, every act you regret!_

* * *

"And what shall we expect now?" he posed the question in a low voice as he clamped his pipe between his teeth, his eyes unfocused as he watched the two brothers banter while they practiced their sword techniques.

The Fate shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned with the outcome of yet another passing race. "You determined rightly in one matter; they are stupidly devoted for being mortals."

He allowed a brief twitch of a smile but would not allow her response to belay the question. "Will they survive in spite of Beorn's assistance?"

The Fate tilted her head to the side and considered her quarry dispassionately. "They will live," she assented.

Gandalf closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks, a burden as he had not thought he would ever be free from lifting off his shoulders.

He did not see the coy glance of the Fate as she shook her head in impervious pity, fading from the wizard's sight.

The choice had been made and Fate had held to her bargain. The Sons of Durin would live to see their kingdom, just as she had foretold. Fili and Kili would survive to raise their children in an era of peace, and the line would continue on. The young one would never regain his former talent in the art of his beloved bow - though it would improve well enough to fulfill his own task which the Fates would set before him - but he would be remembered throughout the centuries as a renowned left handed fighter; the most skilled of his race. The elder would be praised for his wisdom and gentleness, and would prove a greater ruler than all who had gone on before him.

Yet there remained a price to be paid for interference, and the wizard's debt was not yet fulfilled.

When Thorin was lost to madness for greed, the Archenstone buried with him lest Fili allow himself to fall prey to the avarice coupled with the alluring gem; when Kili accompanied a second mighty quest with Gandalf and was slain defending a man of Gondor; when Fili's youngest daughter fell to her death in the old ruins along Erabor's outskirts and was reborn as a Child of Fate... Only then would the price be repaid.

For there is no life without its course, no hour which is not set in stone, no alteration without sacrifice.

...

...

_Finis_.

...

...

* * *

**The Embers muse might have plotted this chapter, but the Muse from I Will Protect You wrote the final conclusion. Those who know its conniving, unpredictable tendencies might have guessed that by now.**

**The Embers muse (mini-muse!) is so excited to have finished its very first story, and it offers its thanks and its chocolate covered raisins (as it hates raisin and considers itself very generous to be giving them away) in gratitude for the amazing reviews and comments offered by all its loyal fans. **

**The author also sends her thanks, as this story would not have been finished without the support from her readers. **

**... And, the Muse from I Will Protect You glares at the readers and forewarns that it is far from hibernation stage and intends to collaborate with mini-muse for another angst filled fic. Pity those poor, abused Sons of Durin.**


End file.
